Bullet Proof and Hollow Points
by Randomnormality
Summary: I figured doing this favor for an old friend would be quick and easy...who knew the enigma that is Tony Stark would keep me tied to his work for the next few years...now if only these S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would leave me alone... Starts in IM1, and leads up to Avengers. Rating may change in future chapters...currently rated for violence, and harsh language
1. Prologue: The Breaking of Monotony

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of dodging bullets and adapting to various terrain. Two years of being the 'perfect' soldier. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Prologue  
**_The Breaking of Monotony_

* * *

They never tell us how to deal with it. The aftermath of it all. They don't tell us how to come back from the cold tango, Death barely releasing its tight grip and letting you slip through its fingers. They don't tell us how to come back from the opressive night terrors, of sleeping with one eye open. They don't tell us how to deal with the survivor's guilt that follows being forced to walk the path alone. The hollow medals of 'honor' and the pathetic attempt at sympathy for the loss.

Counseling is offered, but Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder is not something I suffer from. In fact, I don't suffer at all. I live in a beautiful suburban beach house residing on the Intercoastal of the West Palm Beach area. I live a life of quiet luxury and without struggle. No. I don't suffer from PTSD. In fact, I suffer because of life itself.

Nothing changes. It's always the same. I wake up, after only four hours of sleep. I go for a morning jog along the soft, sandy beaches. I stop at a local coffee shop and remain there for an hour, doing nothing more than watching the people carry on with their lives as though nothing is wrong in this world. Of course, that's the reason we do what we do. So they don't have to. After coffee, I take a stroll through a park, or through a shopping center, never with a real destination in mind. I meet up with my childhood friend, David, and head to work at his tattoo shop. I don't really need to work, but it beats not doing anything. After a long, monotonous day of marking the skin of others, David tells me to head out so he can lock up.

Thus, I am currently at the end of my daily, repetitive cycle.

"Good evenin', Miss Blaines," the friendly, older man greets from behind the bar.

Jacob Devons is a man, in his early fifty's, who manages and runs a small, Irish-inspired pub. It isn't like other bars in the area, filled with intoxicated men cheering at the sports viewed on the several televisions, and it doesn't cater to a lot of recently-legal kids. _Jake's Pub_ carries a warm, homely feel, with its dim lighting and soft Celtic music filling the air.

"Jake," I greet, nodding curtly at the man, "If you don't mind, I'd like my usual with a side shot of Jameson."

Efficient as ever, Jake mixes up a classic Rum and Coke (relatively light on the Coke) and fills a shot of light amber whiskey before sliding them across the bar table. Knocking back the shot, I inhale deeply as the familiar heated tingle follows the whiskey, warming my insides instantly. Giving the man a thankful look, I take a small sip of my drink and allow my body to relax.

"I take it, it's been a tough day?" Jake asks, taking back the shot glass and quickly cleaning it.

I shrug, "Not particularly. Today doesn't carry the best memories."

Noticing Jake grab another glass, I watch in silence as he fills the glass with a familiar brand of scotch, and without looking away from Jake, I greet, "Shut up shop already, David?"

"Of course," the auburn-haired man replies as he takes the empty stool next to me.

David Jerome has been my friend since I was very young, still in grade school. He always carried a carefree, joyful air around him that attracted many people. We may have resided on different areas of a school's social spectrum, but David was the type to stick by his friends, despite what others may think. He was handsome, in a boy-next-door way. His hair always a mess and unkempt. Dark brown eyes always lit up with some form of amusement, or always so full of life and emotion. He always dressed in a manner that showed a sense of carefree professionalism, most of the time a nice button-down with a pair of jeans. You wouldn't figure him to be an Ink Addict, but he has a way of making beautiful art for anyone that comes into his shop.

"Thanks, Old Man," David says as Jake sets the drink in front of him, "So, a curious thing happened when I was closing up. A guy came into the shop, asking for you." I glance over at David, perking up a solitary eyebrow, "He was pretty tall, maybe about...an inch or so taller than me. Dark skinned. Spoke with a great deal of intelligence. Carried himself with confidence, yet remained humbled."

"I can't say I know what you are talking about," I reply, silently wondering who visited the shop.

"Well, he gave me this," David hands me a small business card, "Asked that you call him as soon as possible."

Taking the card from him, I give it a quick glance, before nodding, "Alright." I slide the card into the front left breast pocket of my button-down t-shirt, "So, Jake, anything new going on?"

"Some big engineer tycoon, Tony Stark, went missing a couple days ago during a weapon demonstration over in Afganastan," I give a small snort of dismissal as I take a sip of my drink, "Apparently a lot of people are putting up money to find any information on him."

It isn't that I don't care if Tony Stark had been kidnapped. In fact, it can cause a lot of problems in the Middle East. Anyone cut from the same cloth as me knows the Stark Family, or at least knows of them. They certainly supplied the U.S. military with Grade-A weapons and continued to innovate them, and other supplies that help keep the soldiers safe. It just didn't sit well with me, remembering opposing forces carrying the same brand name.

"I don't see how putting up a reward across the States is going to provide any information if he's in Afganastan," I point out logically.

David makes a noncommital grunt, "Let's just hope they find Stark. Last thing we need is Afgani military gaining an upperhand in any situation."

"So, Jake, how's that granddaughter of your's doing?" I ask, changing the subject.

Jake grins widely in response, "She just started her Sophomore year at Juilliard. She's hoping to get the lead in this year's Nutcracker."

"That's great!" David exclaims with a matching smile, "Give her our best."

Jake's granddaughter, Carmen, was a beautiful and talented girl that expressed a deep love for the performing arts. The girl danced, sang and acted with a grace that most teenagers would need classes to get. When I first noticed Carmen, when she was just starting middle school and I was still in the middle of my high school years, I had encouraged her to persue her love for such art. With the turn of the economy and many families losing jobs, homes and taking a major pay-cut, Carmen's hard work had come to a grinding pause when her mother had lost her job and could no longer contribute money toward Carmen's savings. Not wanting something as fickle as money stand in the way of Carmen and her dreams, I used what money I received as a signing bonus to give to Carmen's mother, in exchange for her to keep my house taken care of while I was on _business_.

Jake, still to this day, carries on as though I am part of their family. The sentiment is respected on my behalf, but hard to return.

Catching the time, I let out a soft sigh before downing the last of my drink, "Thanks, Jake. Until next time."

As usual, the man waves off our pay as we are sent on our way. Lighting up a cigarette outside of the pub, David and I walk in silence. It's always in silence at this time of the day. Not that we have nothing to talk about, but David has always understood the way my mind works. With a few soft words of farewell, David and I part ways at a cross intersection and I relax in the comfortable loneliness.

Finally arriving at the house, I kick the door shut before toeing off my sneakers by the door. Devesting myself of my clothes, I change into a simple pair of sweatpants and a tank top, my dogtags dangling between my breasts. Returning downstairs, I glance down at the business card dancing between my fingers as I contemplate calling the number. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I place my phone to my ear as it rings.

"This is Rhodes."

"I must say, it's been a while, Rhodes," I reply, tossing the card on the table.

"Blaines? Is that really you?"

I can't stop the subtle eye roll at his surprise, "What are you doing in West Palm Beach and why are you seeking me out?"

"I need your help with something."

I snort, "I'm retired."

"Come on, Blaines. This is a life or death mission."

"Yes, because _that_ is going to make me jump at the chance," I retort, earning a chuckle from him despite the apparent seriousness of the situation, "Well, since you've been having me tailed ever since I stepped out of the bar, why don't you bring yourself inside for a coffee and we can talk in a more private manner."

"I should have figured you'd catch on."

If I was anyone else, I might be offended, "Please. I marked your men in the time it took me to light a cigarette."

"Alright, Blaines."

Hearing him hang up, I sigh as I move to put on a pot of coffee. Hearing a knock, I call out for him to enter and I must say, it really had been a long time. James Rhodes, a Colonel now from what I hear, had been my drill sergent and somehow ended up impressed with my quick learning and high levels of observation. Staring at the man, I straighten up and give him a quick salute, and his answering grin tells me he's caught my mockery of him.

"Well, well, well. Lieutenant Colonel Korianna Blaines," he muses aloud, with a soft grin on his face, "I must say, it is good to see you alive and kicking."

"Apparently not kicking hard enough," I retort as I motion for him to have a seat, "So, how does it feel to be rolling up the ranks?"

"Good, although, there is a serious problem I need help with."

I allow a small smirk to tug at my lips, "I'm afraid I'm not willing to help you with anything to..._serious_."

Hearing the double entendre in my words, he gives me a small glare, "Very funny. I'm sure you've heard about the disappearance of Tony Stark," I nod, "Mr. Stark was attacked while traveling with a caravan of soldiers on his way to give a demonstration with the new Jerico Missile. We haven't found any leads on where he might be, given if he's even alive."

"I take it you knew this man personally?" Seeing Rhodes nod curtly, I slide him a mug of coffee, "If you want my honest opinion; from what you've told me alone, I'd say this has some kind of espienoge written all over it," My gaze follows as his spine straightens at the thought, "If he was attacked on his way to demonstrate the Jerico Missile, he was most likely taken for his engineering skills, instead of monetary gain. That also means, whoever did attack the caravan knew exactly where he would be, who he'd be with and where he would be heading. I'd start looking into possible rival companies; maybe Hammer Industries. Hammer has his fingers in weapon production."

Rhodes smiles warmly, "Man. What I wouldn't do to have a soldier like you watching my back."

"Let's cut past the formalities. Why don't you tell me why you are approaching me for this?" I question.

"Due to Stark being the CEO of his company, and his company being one of the greatest benefactors to the United States military, him possibly being in enemy hands has caught the attention of every branch," Rhodes responds, his previous humor shifting into a more serious manner.

"All of them are only out to find Stark in order to get in the man's good graces," I summerize, getting a nod in return, "So, you aren't here to ask for my help in locating Stark, since you have every branch engaged in a political pissing contest."

"I need you to do what you do best."

I snort, "I'm afraid I'm not employed as a marksmen anymore."

"No. I don't need you to take out a target," Rhodes replies sternly, "I need you to remove the soldier and step away from being what you have been conditioned to become," I give him a questioning look, "You and I both know that you are a master at infiltration, so I need you to work more...behind the scenes. We have enough people looking for Stark that information will start coming up. What we don't have is a name or face behind this situation. I thought it was odd that these terrorists knew exactly where Stark would be."

"You want me to act as an employee of Stark Industries?" Rhodes nods, "Even if I do this, there's no way of knowing I'd be high enough in the company to have such...liberties."

Rhodes flashes a grin of pure arrogance, "I happen to know of one person, high in the chain of command, that we can trust. Ms. Virginia Potts is Tony Starks assistant, practically helps him run logistics and finances for the company. If anyone can help us, and keep it in the best interest of Stark himself, it's her."

"Give me tonight to think it over, and I will let you know my answer in the morning," I reason, getting a nod in return.

Standing up as he did, I tense as the man embraces me gently, "You were my proudest achievement, and I'm sorry I never had the chance to talk to you about-"

"I'm fine," I cut him off, giving him a rare, genuine smile, however small it might be, "Despite the circumstances, I am..." I pause, searching for the right defining word, "...pleased that you came."

Rhodes pulls back, giving me a soft smile, "Until tomorrow."

"Until tomorrow."

Walking him to the door, I watch in silence as he climbs into his vehicle and then he is gone. Just like that. Just like everyone else. He will return, of course, but never to stay. They never do. Sad fact for life, but it is something I have grown accustom to.

Laying back on my bed, I stare at the ceiling contemplating on whether or not I take this mission. I've never backed down from one before, and have yet to fail. Trust me. I have the scars of my consistent success to prove it true. Am I willing to risk being thrown back into a world where politics and military reside heavily? All for some intelligent man who happens to operate a multi-billion dollar company that manufactures military-used weaponry?

Am I willing to leave a man such as that in the hands of terrorists?

Heaving a sigh, I grab my phone.

_I'm in. Should have everything settled within a few days. Destination?_

_**Malibu, California**_

_Accepted. Message will delete themselves within thirty seconds._

_**I'll set up a meeting with V.P., two days, Jake's, 22:00**_

Erasing the messages, I sigh as I drop my phone back on the nightstand.

So much for a life of monotony.

* * *

The next two days consisted of me working around the clock to familiarize myself with Stark Industries, as well as get everything wrapped up here. David had agreed to move into the house, saying his rent was becoming too steep, so I didn't have to worry about getting it sold on a dwindling market area. My afternoons were busy with interviewing my replacement, as I told David I wasn't sure how long this would keep me away from the East Coast. I managed to find one in a young man, early twenties, and carried a deep love for tattoos. Ryan LeCoure graduated school with average marks, but his grades in all areas of Fine Arts caught my eye.

Ten o'clock rolls around and I am comfortable seated on top of my usual bar stool. Jake, busy with the few patrons, kept my glass filled as I try to ignore the faint buzzing in the back of my head. I promised myself I wouldn't get caught up in anything political or military. I swore I would focus on living an easy life, but even then I knew it would never stay. Normality doesn't suit people like me. It can't. It physically and mentally doesn't work for people conditioned and trained the way I had been. I always find myself studying every single person within a twenty-foot radius, marking them as a threat or not. I still arm myself, though no one could see where I have stashed the hidden blade, even when I go for my morning jog, or coffee. I can tell you everything about a person; the kind of life the live, their personality, their job, their home life, and all of it from just watching them for a minute.

"Excuse me?" The soft voice causes my ears to proverbially perk up, "I'm sorry to bother you, sir, but I am supposed to be meeting with a Lieutenant Colonel Corey Blaines. Do you know where I might find him?"

Glancing over at the voice, I pause in my response to the greeting. She's tall, and rather beautiful, if you ask me. Unlike my vintage 'Ramones' t-shirt and ripped denim jeans, she looked classy and casual in a simple flowing white skirt and a soft blue halter-styled top. She had orange-red hair, shoulder-length and left to frame her face delicately. Her eyes are a soft, light blue that reflects a sense of presence, but also humble.

Jake quirks an eyebrow at the woman, "I'm afraid you must be a bit confused, young miss. The only Lieutenant Colonel Blaines I know of is sitting right there."

As the woman turns in my direction, I meet her gaze with my own and raise my glass mockingly, "You must be Virginia Potts."

"You are Corey Blaines?" she questions, obviously in some form of shock.

"Lieutenant Colonel Korianna Blaines," I state, flashing her my standard license, and I watch as her eyes brighten with acknowledgment, "I am an old friend of Colonel Rhodes. You can just call me Kori, if you wish."

I feel momentarily confused by the blush on her cheeks, but she flashes me a bright smile, "Colonel Rhodes has said nothing but compliments about you. He says you are one of the best observant minds to date."

I shrug off her words, lifting my gaze to Jake, who stood at the other end of the bar, and I signal him to refill my glass for the third time, "I'm just good at what I do. So, Rhodes tells me that you and Mr. Stark are close."

"He's really the only family I have," I inwardly flinch as her eyes start to water, "He has such a brilliant mind, and while he can be a completely arrogant, self-absorbed asshole, he means well where it counts."

"The only thing we can do now, to ensure everything pans out the way we want it to, is to go over some story. Rhodes is the only one, outside of the two of us, that has knowledge of my military background. Rhodes and I both think there is something bigger at play here, based on the fact that the terrorists knew exactly where Stark would be when the caravan was hit. So, we need to collaborate a back story, so we don't get our signals crossed," I state as Jake tops off my glass and gives me a small smile.

She seems surprised by my words, nodding in complete understanding, "I see where you are going. If we can figure out who, in Tony's life, will benefit from this, then we can find Tony."

"Precisely," I reply curtly, "Now. I am Kori Sabelin and you have decided to hire an assistant, especially now that you don't have Stark to act as the head. I graduated from Florida State with a degree in Accounting, Business and Software Programming. You believed, with my resume as back up, that I would be best suited to handle the environment of Stark Industries and selected me based on this information alone. When you return to Malibu, you _must_ treat me as you would any other assistant. We can't give off an air of familiarity, or give anyone reasons to speculate my being there. At all times, I will have my ears and eyes open, and will keep a firm watch on any incoming or outgoing transmissions in the next few weeks. Whoever might be behind this will grow comfortable and eventually slip up, and we will have to plan a discreet attack on the person responsible."

"Wow..." I glance over at the wide-eyed woman, "Rhodes said you were good, but I didn't think you'd be this...impressive," She blushes slightly at her admittance, "I feel a bit more comfortable knowing I have you on my side."

"Good. You will be leaving for Malibu tomorrow morning at 10:00. I will arrive in Malibu that night and we will start this business come Monday," I state as I finish my glass, signalling to Jake that I am done for the night.

Realizing our meeting is over, Ms. Potts stands up from her own stool, and extends her hand, "I can't thank you enough."

"It's no problem, Ms. Potts. I owe Rhodes a favor or two, so think nothing of it."

She smiles softly, "So modest as well," I try not to argue with her words as I shake her hand, "Future reference, everyone at Stark Industries calls me Pepper," I quirk an eyebrow, "It's a nickname Tony gave me. He tends to give everyone he meets nicknames, so if and when we do find him, don't take any of it to heart."

* * *

Standing at the terminal, I watch as people begin to stand as the flight number is called. Turning to David and Jake, a grunt escapes me as both men pull me into a hug. Stepping out of their embrace, I bid a farewell to Jake before turning to my childhood friend.

"Davvy," I intone.

He extends his hand, holding out a brand new MP3 player, a sad smile on his face, "I downloaded all of your favorites."

Gently taking the device from him, I lean forward, and in a very rare display of affection, I plant a small kiss to his cheek, "Take care. Try not to burn anything down."

Seeing the reminiscent glint in his eyes and the grin on his face, I step back and snap him a mocking salute. Handing the boarding pass to the woman by the gate and finding my seat, I try to relax. Putting the ear-bud headphones in my ears, I turn it on, and select one of the playlists and hit play.

_She had the word_  
_Had the way_  
_The way of letting me know_  
_She knew the game_  
_Called the play_  
_She hit me low_  
_Said now you go your way_  
_I'll go mine_  
_And that's the start_  
_Doctor, doctor_  
_Ain't no cure_  
_For the pain in my heart_

_Gimme a bullet to bite on, something to chew_  
_Gimme a bullet to bite on, and I'll make believe_  
_I'll make believe it's you_

_Don't need no drink_  
_Don't need no drug_  
_Don't need no sympathy_  
_Sooner or later_  
_Send me a bill_  
_For what she's doing to me_  
_Operator_  
_Long distance lips_  
_On the telephone_  
_Come tomorrow_  
_Come to grips_  
_With being all alone_

_Gimme a bullet to bite on, something to chew_  
_Gimme a bullet to bite on, and I'll make believe_  
_I'll make believe it's you_

_A bullet to bite on_  
_Gimme a bullet to bite on_  
_Come on now_  
_Gimme a bullet to bite on_  
_Bullet to chew_  
_I'll make the lady chew_  
_I'll make the lady chew_  
_Gimme a bullet to bite on_  
_You're a bullet baby_  
_I want a bullet to bite on_

Sometimes I hate the irony in life.

* * *

**That's just the beginning...it seems a bit slow now, but it will build up in the following chapters. Thank you for all who read the story, and I implore you to please leave reviews. Song is 'Gimme A Bullet' by AC/DC. The next chapter, and first, chapter will have a time skip to when Tony returns and Kori and Tony meet for the first time. This story will probably have a song from various Rock bands, (Tony more Classic, and Kori a bit of a mix between classic and modern), and lyrics will be cited and disclaimed after each chapter. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter One: The Meeting of Prodigies

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Chapter One  
**_The Meetings of Prodigies_

* * *

I'll admit, life in California is relatively different than Florida. Malibu, a large tourist spot, is undoubtedly beautiful. The landscape alone is enough to attain anyone's attention. Being such a popular vacation spot, I have found it difficult to find a quiet place to escape from this...normalcy. Though, I have managed to happen across small cliff face looking over the Pacific, I have come to understand nothing of this place.

The people are constantly swept up in a rush. Not even those vacationing keep to a single place for very long. No one seems to have time to just relax and enjoy the beauty this place has to offer. If I ever stay in a certain place for very long (a coffee shop, or a park bench) I end up on the receiving end of odd glances and suspicious gazes.

For the past three months, I have kept a close eye on everyone at Stark Industries, while Rhodes keeps an ear out for any negativity from Hammer Industries. Pepper, she insisted in front of a group of people that I refer to her as such, introduced me to several people, Obadiah Stane, who quickly took up Stark's mantle and kept the company running while the man was MIA, and Hogan, who was referred to as Happy for some odd reason, who seemed to be the personal driver and assistant of Stark. Pepper had also given me a close look inside Stark's Malibu home, were I was introduced to Jarvis, an impressively created AI system wired through Stark's entire house. Apparently, Stark carries Jarvis with him everywhere in the palm of his hand in his self-created tablet.

Again, quite impressive.

Nothing came up though. Three months of looking into every possible lead, and I am at a loss of who could be behind it.

For the past two days, I have taken a short leave from Stark Industries, and instructed Pepper to not even _bother_ getting a hold of me. Feeling as though I am missing a big piece of the picture here, I needed to take a reprieve, and today's date, suffice to say, holds a grand importance to me.

A sigh leaves my lips as I hear my phone go off for the twenty-seventh time, in the past six hours. Not bothering to look at the screen, I flip open the phone and place it against my ear.

"I hope this is important."

"Um...Lieutenant Blaines?" a soft, feminine voice replies, unsure and hesitant.

Not recognizing the voice, I pull the phone from my ear and a vaguely familiar set of ten digits peers back at me, "Carly Walker? If my memory serves me correct."

"U-um, y-yes, Ma'am," I inwardly sigh as I hear her response, "I am sorry to have bothered you, but...I haven't had a chance to talk to you in a long time."

"If anyone has the right to call me today, it would be you," I respond curtly, my gaze lifting from the crashing waves, in a hope that the setting sun would burn away the memories.

A tearful giggle echoes my words, "I...I just wanted to see how you have been. I know it can't be easy for you."

"They don't really teach people how to cope with this kind of thing," I answer honestly, "Most days, I feel as though I am on auto-pilot."

"I can understand that sentiment," Carly sniffles, "My therapist tells me that I should try to speak with someone that can understand what I'm going through. I just miss him so much. I never had the nerve to approach you during the funeral, but...I had hoped you would tell me about the man you knew him to be."

"Isaac Walker was a great man. Brave, loyal and strong-willed. He was often the comedy relief of the group, especially when things were in the rough," I lick my lips, trying to hold back the memory of the always-grinning man, "He was my right-hand and the best insurgence officer my team had to offer. He was, first and foremost, the bravest man I have ever known." Hearing her burst into tears, I try to think of a way to pacify her sorrow, "Isaac was a firm believer and standing on your own two feet and learning to walk again. He always boasted of having a strong, independent woman waiting for him at home. If I may be so bold, he would want you to move forward with your life and do what is best for you, and your son."

I wait as her cries fade slowly and sniffles sound on the other line, "Thank you, Ma'am."

"Please, call me Kori, and if you, or your son, ever need anything, don't hesitate. Isaac saved my life that day," Though he did throw me from a five story window, "and I can only hope to return the favor somehow."

"You are a brilliant woman, Kori," she responds, "Isaac always spoke of you with such respect, and I can see why."

Hearing the subtle hint of a rock being kicked by booted feet, I sigh, "I'm afraid I must go. Take care, Carly."

"Yourself as well."

Hanging up the phone, I turn my gaze back to the darkening horizon, "I should have figured you'd find me here, Rhodes."

Feeling the man slide down to sit next to me, his own feet dangling beside my own, I look at him from the corner of my eye for a brief moment, before he speaks, "Tony's back," I give him my attention completely, "He managed to escape. He's been back for the past few days, actually came back the night you told Pepper you'd be MIA for a few days."

"That's good to hear. We still need to figure out what happened?"

Rhodes nods in agreement, before an odd glint flickers in his gaze, "He's asking to meet you. Pepper and some other employees have mentioned your name in passing and he wants to meet the _guy_."

"I'm take a _complete_ shot in the dark here," I intone sarcastically, "but I'm guessing you did not bother to correct Starks assumption of toward my gender?"

Rhodes grins slightly, "Stark might be brilliant, but sometimes it's fun to knock him for a loop. Imagine, an engineering prodigy, coming head-to-head with my own."

"Very funny," I deadpan.

It doesn't surprise me at all, that Rhodes sees me as his own prodigy. When he had been my drill sergeant, he had been impressed with me. For some reason, and I never had been able to explain it, I took to life in the military fast, and my skills continued to grow bigger and better than before. When he caught wind of his superiors looking for promising soldiers, he immediately put my name up on the proverbial sign-up sheet.

Standing up from my spot, I stretch my arms over my head, "I will be in tomorrow."

As I turn to leave, his voice stops me, "How about a drink? I know today can't be a good day for you."

I grant Rhodes a small, rare smile before feeling my facial features become blank once more, "I could use a drink."

Another thing I've learned about Malibu; there isn't any place like _Jake's_. All of the bars cater to the young tourists. Loud music is played, frat boys and sorority girls laugh and chatter without restraint. There's no way a person can possibly think.

Even so, the bar seems a bit more...obnoxious than usual. Rhodes and I make our way to the pool tables, I pose a challenger to the drunk frat boys, in order to stake claim to the table. As Rhodes racks the balls, I head over to the bar and wave over one of the several bartenders.

"Can I get a glass of your best bourbon, a Rum and Coke, light on the Coke, and two shots of Jameson?"

Getting the drinks, I wonder back and place the drinks on the table. My eyes take in the frat boys. Both of them, along with their friends, look as though they are three sheets to the wind. Neither could stand very straight, nor hold their cue sticks steady as they line up their shot. This would be an easy win, of course.

"Go ahead," Rhodes motions toward the table after the one frat boy misses his shot.

Twenty minutes into the game, I find myself lining up a shot with the eight ball. Calling the shot, I focus on the corner pocket when my senses prickle. The moment I pull back the cue stick, a large hand grabs at my backside and I take a calming breath before taking the shot. The moment the cue ball streaks across the table, I turn to the frat boy that had the nerve to touch me and by the time the eight ball rolled into the pocket, I have the frat boy face first against the pool table, his arm twisted behind his back.

"I'll take into consideration that you are highly intoxicated and you are not in the right state of mind, so I'm going to make this pretty clear," I hiss into the boy's ear, "You are to take your fellow idiots, call a fucking cab and get the hell out of here."

"Hey! Let him go," one of the guys from behind me calls out.

Standing upright, I shove the restrained kid into his friends, "Call a cab and get the hell out. I'm pretty sure the owner of this place won't take kindly to a couple of punks harassing his customers."

The moment they are gone, the tension along my body fades and I turn to stare at a highly amused Rhodes, "You weren't going to step in, were you?"

"I knew you would handle it," he replies with a small grin.

"If I had half-the-restraint on my skills, I could have killed him," I deadpan.

"I have faith in you."

I snort at his lame attempt, "At least someone does."

"What would you have done, if you didn't have restraint?"

"Broken the cue stick and stabbed him in his throat. Broken his neck. Bashed his head into the side of the pool table. Take one of the bar stools-"

"Alright, alright, I get it," Rhodes interrupts, chuckling as he sets out to rack up the balls for a new game.

* * *

_Back in black I hit the sack_

_I been too long I'm glad to be back_

_Yes I am_

_Let loose from the noose_

_That's kept me hanging about_

_I keep looking at the sky cause it's gettin' me high_

_Forget the hearse cause I'll never die_

_I got nine lives cat's eyes_

_Using every one of them and runnin' wild_

An hour of non-stop modern hip-hop music is changed suddenly and I quirk an eyebrow as Rhodes seems to perk up slightly and I follow his gaze, only to find myself staring at a grinning man. Dressed in a Black Sabbath t-shirt and slightly tattered jeans, he moves through the crowd of people with a heavy sense of self-confidence. His hair seems to be a deep dark brown, most likely black, and even from my distance I can see the spark of intelligence in his amber-brown eyes. He isn't very tall, but can't be considered short by any terms. The arrogance he carries in his demeanor seems to encompass everything he does, from taking an offerred drink from a waitress, to the gait of his walk.

"Rhodey!" the man greets with a wide grin as he saunters over to us, his gaze instantly looking over my denim skinny jeans and Sex Pistols t-shirt, "Who's this? A girlfriend?"

If I had been anyone else, I would have winced at the idea of being in any kind of romantic relationship with Rhodes, but my superior simply chuckles off the assumption, "No. Nothing like that. This is Kori Sabelin," I have to admit I am a bit curious by the shocked glint in the man's eyes, "Kori, this is Tony Stark."

Now it makes sense, I think inwardly as I nod in understanding, as the owner of Stark Industries extends his hand, "Pleasure to meet you, though I'll be honest, I thought you'd be more..."

"Masculine?" I prompt, receiving a grin in response as I shake his hand, "Pepper and Rhodes both speak highly of you."

"I've heard nothing but praise from Pepper, but I didn't know you were familiar with Rhodes," Tony comments, a hint of curiosity flickering in his eyes.

Man, was he easy to read.

"I was actually just catching Kori up since she's been MIA for the past few days. I just finished telling her about your decision to shut down the weapon manufacturing of Stark Industries," Rhode adds.

He shut down the weapon manufacturing for his company? Financially, it's not the best move. His entire company practically built the U.S. military from vintage and problematic arsenal to the state-of-the-art weaponry. To shut down that part of his company would put a major dent in his gross income.

"I was just about to question Rhodes if that was the best idea for your company, financially," I continue, keeping up the ruse Rhodes had come up with in a short amount of time.

A dark look forms on his face for a split second, but due to my conditioning, I catch it before he replaces the look with a faux-grin, "My company was selling weapons under-the-table to terrorists. I don't really know who is responsible, but as it is my company doing so, I am at fault."

The small amount of respect I held previous to this meeting grew partially at his honest reply, and I nod curtly, "It speaks highly of your character to be willing to face possible financial bankruptcy in order to do what is morally correct."

"Has anyone ever told you, you speak weird?" I allow a solitary eyebrow to quirk in response, "Not that I don't understand what you are saying, but Pepper said you had an odd way of speaking."

"I've never been the type to lower the standards of my vocabulary to fit the standards of another person. If they do not understand my words, they often are not worth speaking to," I state out of habit, remembering David having to carry around a dictionary during our high school years. "Unless they are mentally challenged in some manner, I don't see why they should receive such a verbal handicap."

I am mildly surprised when the infamous billionaire laughs outright at my words, "Oh man, Pepper said you had an odd sense of humor."

"I wasn't aware I had one," I deadpan, gaining more laughter in response, and I turn to Rhodes, "Are you finding my honest words carrying any form of amusement or humor? Or am I missing something?"

"No," Tony answers between laughter, "I think it is refreshing that there are still people unwilling to change to fit into their surroundings, or are straight-forward and don't beat around the bush about things."

"It's never my intention to offend, but the weak-minded often misjudge words with such ease," I say, in agreement with Tony.

"Good. I get sick of people pandering to me because of my status," Tony admits, giving a small grin, "Since we are getting to know each other, why not have another round?"

Rhodes and I agree, and finish up yet another game before following Tony to an empty booth. Placing another order for my usual and a shot of Jameson, I notice a mild-sense of surprise in Tony's face.

"The lady knows a good drink," Tony comments toward the waitress, "I'll have what she's having. Rhodey?"

After Rhodes orders a refill and we are given our drinks, I take the time to look Tony over more closely. As he speaks animatedly with Rhodes, I find small lacerations along his face, and he look relatively weary, despite his slightly obnoxious behavior. He is, without a doubt, trying not to show how much his 'disappearance' is affecting him, and I'll be honest when I say it isn't the most brilliant idea. Not for someone of such praised intelligence.

Then again, civilians are stubborn.

"See something you like?"

Noticing the playfully leering grin on his face, I decide to react in my typical manner, "You should be in bed."

"Is that an offer?"

I hear Rhodes choke on his drink, but pay not mind as I continue as though Tony didn't just make such a suggestion, "You look as though, excuse the term, you've been through the grinder. I take it whatever they did was not easy on the human body."

Tony's gleeful expression hardens and Rhodes sits straighter, "I don't think that's any of your business, Ms. Sabelin."

The chill of his tone does not go unnoticed by me, and I do something that shocks Rhodes, "Blaines," Tony's eyebrows shoot up, "My name is Korianna Blaines."

Before Tony can call me a liar, Rhodes jumps at the chance to explain the situation. Slowly, Tony's tension recoils and fades completely as Rhodes tells Tony of why I had been brought in and what I was really doing here. Silence fills the table and I find myself in need of another drink. Rhodes stands as well, saying he had to report for duty in the morning, and I give him a small smile in response. Leaving Tony to his deepened thoughts, I make my way over to the bar.

Staring into the dark substance in my glass, I hum thoughtfully as I knock back the shot. I can see why Rhodes respects Tony to a degree. The man didn't pull any punches, nor did he stop people from making assumptions of him. He did what he felt he needs to do, without taking in anyone else opinion. He reminds me of Isaac Walker to a degree. Charismatic, charming and full of life, despite what had been done to him, though the memories haunt deep within the recesses of his gaze. Lifting my glass in a silent salute to the ghost of my right-hand, I bring it to my lips, closing my eyes as the memories of that day fight for dominance of my mind.

"So, you're the same Blaines Rhodey spoke highly of at some of our meetings?" I nod, opening my eyes as Tony slides onto the stool next to me, "He spoke often of a Major Blaines, his personal prodigy in the military."

"Lieutenant Colonel," Tony's eyebrows shoot up at my response, "My last promotion was Lieutenant Colonel, just over three and a half years ago."

"That's unheard of. You can't be...older than early twenties," Tony exclaims.

"Twenty-six. I'm twenty-six. I was twenty-three when I received that promotion."

An impressed whistle pierces the air between us, "Damn. Rhodey wasn't kidding when he said you were a prodigy."

I give a small shrug, "I don't even know how. My parents were completely against my enlisting, but...to be honest, fighting is all I've ever known. I did Karate, Tae-Kwan-Do and Judo when I was in grade school. Middle school I took up Kick-Boxing. High school I decided to do something different and took up Fencing and Capoeira," The slightest glint of confusion causes me to explain the last one, "Capoeira is a Brazilian form of Martial Arts that mixes Martial Arts and dance. Quick and complex movements, trying to overpower and undermine the momentum of your opponent. Helps teach you how to read movement and how to use your opponent's movements against them."

"Impressive. Any reason why you chose to do all of this fighting?" he asks curiously.

I shake my head, "Not really. It's just...I always felt the need to keep busy. My home-life wasn't easy, but it wasn't as bad as other people have it. My parents didn't abuse me or anything, but they never really made an attempt at making any kind of connection with me. Rarely did I want to go home, only to never be noticed, so I started taking up activities after school."

A self-deprecating smirk appears on Tony's lips as he raises his glass, and in a mocking manner, "To parents who perpetually fuck up their children."

Knowing, deep in my buried heart, that his words resembled something Isaac would say, I lift my glass and allow a small smile to form on my lips, "To never understanding parental figures."

Tony chuckles as he takes a sip of his drink, my movements mimicking his own, "So, this whole ruse? Do you really think someone here could be behind my kidnapping?"

"Do you really think a group of terrorists are going to have knowledge and means of getting to your caravan without inside help?" I retort, getting a shake of his head as a reply.

"May I ask why you needed a few days off of work?"

I glance down at my glass, taking a long sip from it, before licking my lips, "Today is the birthday of 2nd Lieutenant Isaac Walker. After I graduated basic and was extended an invitation to join a Special Ops team, Walker was the only other person selected at the time. The others followed within the following month, but Walker had always been my right-hand. Even when there wasn't a determined leading commander of our group, he followed every instruction I gave him, without hesitation. Three years ago, a mission went south," I clench my fingers around my glass briefly, "and I woke up in an infirmary with the news that my entire squad had died, or there was no trace of them being there."

Tony remains silent, obviously picking up on the sensitive topic, but I continue, "I remember the members of my squad, every year, individually on the day of their birth, because it's better than being reminded of the day they died. The Special Ops. division was disbanded for obvious reasons and I've been living in my hometown ever since."

"I'm sorry for your loss," Tony comments gently, "and if it helps, I'm thankful Rhodey picked you for this secret mission."

I have a feeling, when I look back on my life, that this will be the day remembered not only by the loss of a dear comrade, but the day I managed to carry a level of respect for someone I just met. Thinking back to the whispers of his arrogance and his less-than honorary habits, I wonder if Tony is like me in more ways than he is like Isaac. Tony, a man that hides behind a mask of cheerful abandon and with the love of the high life, and me, a woman that can't seem to find a reason to enjoy life and hides behind the mask she had been forced to wear for over five years- indifferent and stoic.

"So, AC/DC?" I remark, hoping that he would clue into changing the subject.

"Only one of the greatest bands to ever live," he responds with a grin.

I find myself pulled into various conversations over rather mundane topics, but as always, I find myself watching. Watching him. Understanding the notion of a prodigy misunderstood by the masses.

* * *

**Thank you for those who read the story! I am slowly becoming more pleased with the story as it further progresses. Most people might be wondering why I had Kori give Tony her real name, and I figured a man of Tony's genius would start to notice things; like the familiarity between Rhodes and Kori and would start to dig deeper than most people. Obadiah comes off as a man that has his own blind ambitions and arrogance that he would be the type to look over such things as Pepper gaining an assistant during the disappearance of Tony. Obadiah would assume Pepper is only doing so to pick up the slack left in the wake of Tony's kidnapping, and won't think anything more of it. Kori will start to pick up on more of Obadiah's personality and thus begin to look more into the man.**

**Thanks to those who reviewed/subscribed/favored:**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: Thanks for your review!**  
**rockobrocko: Thanks for subscribing/following**  
**TokyoGirl7: Thanks for reviewing. I'm glad you are looking forward to more.**

**Song: 'Back in Black' by AC/DC**


	3. Chapter Two: Out of Place

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Chapter Two  
**_Out of Place_

* * *

Hopeful blue eyes stare at me, imploring a positive response. I'm not sure where Pepper gained the idea that I would agree to something like this. Honestly, when did I ever give off any desire to do so? Her request is an odd one at best, and definitely not what I signed up for.

So...

"No."

Her shoulders slump instantly and the hopeful glint fades, "Oh come on, Kori. It'll be fun."

"Apparently we have different ideas on what _fun_ is," I respond curtly, turning my gaze back to my personal laptop.

"Please?"

"_Non. Niet. Ei. Nicht. _All of which are the few ways I can possibly say...no."

"You have to come!" Pepper exclaims.

I sigh, looking away from my computer screen, "Look, Pepper, I am trying to be as nice as I can. I have absolutely no desire, nor any inclination, to go and I don't see how it is imperative that I do so."

"Everyone will be there," I open my mouth to respond, but she quickly continues, "I mean, every employee of Stark Industries, to the leading competitors. This would be the perfect chance to see if you can spot any suspicious activity."

It is times like this that I wish I still carried my heat, so I can go myself the favor and bite the proverbial bullet. She has a valid point, but that doesn't make this any less discomforting for me. Looking back up at her, I ponder over how to respond in an easy manner. The hopeful glint is back in her eyes, and in the darker, more morbid recesses of my mind, I contemplate ways of ripping them from her skull.

"I don't have a dress."

The squeal I receive in response pierces my heightened sense of hearing and before I can get a word in, a dainty hand latches around my wrist and I am yanked from my chair. My body tenses and before I can stop myself, I reverse her grip and press her back against the edge of my desk. Seeing her flinch, and having the knowledge that I am not being harsh with her, I realize my gaze grew colder as I stare blankly at her.

"I will only tell you this once. Do. Not. Drag. Me. Anywhere." Feeling her shiver, I release her and step away, "You seem to forget, I am not like other people. I will not hesitate to respond when people try to manhandle me."

Comprehension dawns on her face, and it softens, "I'm sorry. I did forget you are...you."

Seeing her rub her wrist, I feel my own face soften slightly, "I apologize if I have hurt you in any fashion. Now, where are we headed?"

"I figured we can take some time to get to know each other and go shopping."

Shopping? That is what has her so excited. I quirk an eyebrow, but nod nonetheless. Greeting Hogan, or Happy, with a curt nod, I climb into the back seat of the vehicle with Pepper in tow.

Within an hour, I find myself watching as Pepper shifts through racks of beautifully designed dresses. It isn't that I don't think they are beautiful, but I continuously shoot down each dress shown. She must have figured out that I wasn't budging on the style of the dress, because Pepper pulls me from the store.

"Alright, let's think this over," Pepper muses aloud, her blue gaze looking over my clothing, her eyes lighting up, "I got it! Let's go!"

Following her into a completely different store, I am slightly shocked by the sight of a variety of dresses, dark-toned colors and slightly out-of-this-world styles. Some of the dresses seemed to incorporate an old Victorian style that are usually classed with Steampunk, while some carried a vintage-modern touch.

"How about this one?"

I glance away from the display I had been staring at to see Pepper holding up a dress. Black, sleek and figure-hugging, the dress looks as though it would stop at knee length. Sleeveless and with a rather low neck line, the dress was obviously made to accentuate the curves and bust of a feminine figure. At the top of the bodice, running over the hem along the top of the breasts, two thick and white curved stripes contrast against the black dress. The only thing keeping the two sets of stripes from touching is a pair of white, nickle-sized buttons. Very vintage, 50's female militant inspired.

"I like it."

The grin on Pepper's face seems to clash with the dark surroundings.

* * *

Alone in the bedroom of my studio-loft apartment, I stare at the reflection of myself. My hands carefully smooth out the tight-fitted dress, and I already feel a bit out of sync. The tightly coiled curls of my black hair settle on the tops of my shoulders, and my pale skin seems to clash with the dress in an odd manner. The dress, as beautiful as it is, exposes the majority of my arms and the top of my back, the selection of black ink decorating my exposed skin. Not all of it, of course. My tattoos had always been tastefully done, without being too much. I had decided on wearing simple black eyeliner and carefully dusted on a soft shade of gunmetal-grey eye-shadow, causing my hazel-flecked green eyes to pop out.

"Ms. Sabelin," I hear Happy call out from the front door of my loft.

Slipping on a pair of crimson, peep-toe heels, I grab the matching clutch purse that Pepper insisted I purchase. Making sure everything in my house is off and locked up, I open the door to and Happy greets me with a wide grin of surprise.

"Wow. You certainly clean up well," he comments, his eyes looking over my outfit.

Falling back into the facade of Kori Sabelin, I give him a small smile, "Thank you, Hogan."

"Please, call me Happy," he insists, for the twenty-eighth time this week, as he offers me his arm.

The drive isn't very long and as Happy helps me out of the back seat, I find myself fighting the urge to go back to the apartment. As beautiful as everyone appears to be, I have never been the most social person, and events like these are not at the top of my list of 'things to do'. Happy pleasantly escorts me inside and my gaze finds Pepper, clad in a beautiful sapphire blue dress, and Tony, wearing a black suit, dancing to a soft melody.

"Ah, Ms. Sabelin," I glance up at the sound of the old, arrogant tone, and come face-to-face with Obadiah, "It is certainly a pleasure to see you here. You look quite beautiful."

As he brings my knuckles to his lips, I fight the urge to reverse the motion and plaster a fake, bashful smile on my face, "Thank you, Mr. Stane. I hope you don't mind, but Happy was just going to escort me to get a drink, right?"

Seeing the slightly confused look on Happy's face, I give him a pointed look, to which he nods excessively and leads me away from the man. It isn't that I'm intimidated by the man, any sense of intimidation had been beaten out of me years ago, but he carried an odd air around him. He exudes arrogance, not unlike Tony, and I know fake exchanges of pleasantries when I see them. By his words alone and his tone of voice, I can easily read how he views my status as beneath him, and I've never been one to take well to being spoken to with a condescending tone.

"Kori?"

I break away from my conversation with Happy, swallowing the alcoholic drink, as we both look up to see Tony approaching, Pepper in tow, "Mr. Stark. Pepper."

Pepper grins at the sight of my dress, "Wow. That dress looks fabulous on you."

"No more than your's does on you," I respond in kind.

Tony pulls out a chair from the table, motioning for Pepper to sit, before he takes his own seat, "I must say. I never pictured you as the tattoo type."

I quirk an eyebrow in response, "I've worked at a tattoo shop for the past two-and-a-half years."

"Do they mean anything?" Pepper asks, motioning to display of six, black-and-white playing cards splayed out as though being held in a person's hand.

"The Joker," I state, motioning to the first card behind the rest, "represents me, as I've always been a 'Wild Card' so to speak," I am thankful I don't have to explain, "The Ace of Spades represents my right-hand, my Ace in the Hole, if you will. The King of Hearts, the 'Suicide King' represents a friend who had a habit of being a bit reckless and doing whatever needs to be done in order to fix a situation," I state, hoping they pick up on the coded words, "The Queen of Clubs, the regal one, represents a friend who had a way of using charm to manipulate his way behind the opposition in order to collect information. The Jack of Diamonds depicts the ancient Trojan Prince, Hector, and thus, represents a friend of mine that has formidable combat skills and never backed down from a challenge. The Ten of Hearts binds each of us together as a set."

"Impressive symbolism," Tony remarks gently, before he grins widely, "Pretty ingenious actually."

"How so?" Happy asks, confused by Tony's words.

"Kori, here, knows the history behind the Face cards, and incorporated the meanings to represent friends, without actually announcing who she speaks of," Tony answers before taking a sip of his champagne, "How are you enjoying the party, Kori?"

"This isn't exactly an event I am familiar with," I reply honestly, "I don't particularly enjoy being around fake people."

"You can read people that well?" Pepper asks, having always been curious about my observation skills.

Without looking up from my own glass, I nod as I reply, "Standing approximately five meters behind Pepper is an older gentlemen, most likely a Senator of some kind, who hopes to gain Tony's approval of his campaign, though most of his political slinging is propaganda aimed at the masses in hopes to hide his infidelity. He wears a wedding band, but the young woman in the beige dress is definitely not his wife, and by the way he has been whispering and caressing her, she does not bear any familial connection with him."

"That's incredible," Happy exclaims, "Where did you learn to read people like that?"

"I've taken up the art of people watching many years ago," I respond, looking up from my glass.

"What about us? What can you tell about us from just looking?" Happy asks, leaning forward and I am slightly surprised by his curiosity.

"First, it isn't looking. To look, and to observe, are two different things. Hogan; you actually like your nickname, Happy. You are in your mid-to-late twenties. You aren't particularly smart, but you carry a heavy moral ethic of loyalty. You can't lie. Whenever you even get the idea to lie, your left eyebrow twitches and you show signs of discomfort. While you are a safe driver, you also carry an itch to speed without restraint, which explains the clenching of the steering wheel and the gear shift," I watch as his eyes widen.

"Virginia 'Pepper' Potts. You are a smart woman with numbers and have a direct opinion on how a company should be run. You don't come from a particularly wealthy family, which shows in the slightest hint of discomfort you have at this party. You are honest, loyal and try to exceed expectations placed before you. Though you carry a rather strong air around you, you have a tendency to be shy," Pepper flushes a soft red.

"Anthony 'Tony' Stark. You are a genius, and while you have a substantial amount of money, you have philanthropic tendencies. You have dreams of making this world a better place. You carry a set of insecurities, which is the reason why you act overly arrogant. You _are_ naturally charming, but with your brilliant mind, you are capable to manipulating a situation to better fit your standard approach. You don't care for the people in this room any more than I do, and you have no problem putting someone in their place. You allow people to believe the negative connotations directed at your person, so you can be better fit to prove them wrong later in life," Tony's grin fades from his face.

I shrug at the silence that follows my words, "None of us, not even Tony, feel comfortable here. Tony is here out of obligation. Pepper is here because she does not wish Tony to face these people alone. Happy is only here to keep me company. I am only here because Pepper bribed me. None of us like these people, and yet here we are."

The moment my words come to an end, Tony stands up, muttering about needing a refill, and Pepper turns to me, a slight glare in her eyes, "Did you have to say all of that stuff?"

Now I'm confused. I watch as Pepper stands up to follow after Tony. Honestly, did I say something wrong? Was I not asked to observe them? I don't recall saying anything negative, at least not anything with false pretense.

I should not have come.

Standing up, I give Happy a small smile, "If you like, I can give you some tips on how to observe someone." Happy grins at the idea, but before he can reply, I raise a hand, "Later. I feel as though I am not particularly welcome here at the moment. Give my regards to Pepper and Tony."

* * *

"In other words, you managed to shove your entire foot, nay your entire fucking leg, into your mouth," David's voice cackles on the other line.

Sighing as I silently shut the door behind me, I kick off my heels in the entrance way of the foyer area before walking further into the loft apartment, "Apparently. I am not completely sure what I said that was so bad. I didn't insult the guy."

"Maybe he isn't use to people being able to see past the facade he puts up," David replies, distractedly, most likely in the middle of drawing up a new tattoo for a customer.

"You're probably right. I just want this mission to be over with," I sigh as I walk over to the study area of the open living room.

"Any leads yet?"

"I'm not a hundred percent sure, but when I was leaving, Tony seemed to be in an argument with Obadiah Stane. I'm going to do some background research and see if I can pull anything up on the man," I answer as I open up my laptop.

"Alright, well, good luck. Hopefully after all of this mess, you will come home."

At the sound of the last word, I close my eyes, "We will see. Good-bye, Davvy."

"Bye Kori. I miss you."

Returning the sentiment I hang up, trying to ignore the hollow feeling in my chest. Home. I've never been able to consider the place home. Not when I was growing up. Not even when I retired. Everything always felt out of place. As if I didn't truly belong. Not within my family, and definitely not within the memories my old house carried.

I have a feeling I never will find a place to call home. A place to belong.

Shaking my head, hoping to escape my inner demons, I begin to pull up information on Obadiah Stane. After Tony's father died, Obadiah took over running the company before Tony turned twenty-one and was eligible to take up his father's mantle. Having already done a search on Hammer Industries prior to now, I know Hammer isn't behind this mess. Looking at the basic information in front of me, my instincts are screaming at me to dive deeper. Knowing only one person capable of getting information from years ago, I pick up my phone.

"Alex Carson speaking. May I ask who the fuck is calling me so damn late?"

"Carson, it's Blaines," A small gasp sounds on the other line, "I need you to pull up whatever information you can get on Obadiah Stane, who was once the acting-CEO of Stark Industries."

"Do I need to ask what kind of shit you've gotten yourself into? I mean, really, four years of not hearing from you and you call me at three in the morning to have me do research?"

"Do I need to remind you of the reason you're still able to walk without having a target aimed at the back of your head?" I retort curtly, hearing a sigh and a rustle as though he is getting up from his bed, "I need comparative information between Howard Stark's work ethics and numbers and the same of Obadiah Stane," The faint scratching sound of a pen against paper echoes my words, "Send me the files as soon as possible."

"My usual price still stands."

"Fair enough."

"Consider it done, Blaines."

Hanging up, I lean back in my chair. Something isn't right. I watched the tape of Tony's statement of shutting down the weapon development with Stark Industries, and I think even Tony doesn't believe Howard Stark would sell under the table.

Assumed Target: Obadiah Stane.

Progress: Incomplete, information pending, evidence needed.

Shutting down my laptop, I strip myself off my dress and quickly change into a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. Lying back in bed, I use the remote control to switch on the stereo.

_(When this began)  
I had nothing to say  
And I get lost in the nothingness inside of me  
(I was confused)  
And I let it all out to find  
That I'm not the only person with these things in mind  
(Inside of me)  
But all that they can see the words revealed  
Is the only real thing that I've got left to feel  
(Nothing to lose)  
Just stuck, hollow and alone  
And the fault is my own, and the fault is my own_

_I wanna heal, I wanna feel what I thought was never real_  
_I wanna let go of the pain I've felt so long_  
_(Erase all the pain till it's gone)_  
_I wanna heal, I wanna feel like I'm close to something real_  
_I wanna find something I've wanted all along_  
_Somewhere I belong._

Oh yes. I truly hate how fitting the irony is.

* * *

**Thank you for those who read the story. I am, so far, pleased with the progress. To explain something in this story, I did background research on the meaning behind the face cards, which do represent Kori's squad members. As everyone knows what a Royal Flush is, I wanted to depict how truly different in personality Kori and her teammates were, so I chose to opt out the idea of using a Royal Flush. As there were only five members, including herself, to the squad, I used the cards to describe the connection each of them carried. What Kori didn't explain was the members each carried nicknames; 'Jester', 'Ace', 'King', 'Queen' and 'Knave' and as a Straight-hand isn't complete without the '10', I used the suit of Hearts to represent the connection they carried, viewing each other as family.**

**Another thing, people might question, why Tony walked away from the table and Pepper became upset. Tony Stark is depicted as a man who exudes arrogance and charms his way through the masses, but turn around, and he is obviously affected by the way people view him. He isn't used to people, even Pepper, being able to read him so well (reference to Iron Man 2, when Pepper fails to realize something is wrong with Tony and figures he is just becoming the person the press pegs him to be) though Pepper knows him well-enough to realize when someone has crossed a boundary.**

**Song: 'Somewhere I Belong' by Linkin Park**

**TokyoGirl7: Thank you for your review. I am pleased you are taking so well to my character, and I hope that I am keeping the canon-characters within character.**

**Ravenclaw Slytherin: lol...always the same review, but always pleased to see it.**

**To those who Follow/Subscribed to the story recently:**

**CalistaCat98  
Silverfox24**

**Thank you both, I am glad you enjoy the story as well, and feel free to give input or praise where you see fit.**

**Coming up...**

**Chapter Three- Talk of Heroes: Realizing she seemed to have offended Tony, Kori visits the genius billionaire and the topic of being a hero is discussed.**


	4. Chapter Three: Talk of Heroes

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Chapter Three  
**_Talk of Heroes_

* * *

I can't say for sure why I am standing before the beautiful mansion sitting on top of a cliff-face. I can't even begin to understand the reasons myself. Never once, in my entire life, have I felt a need to do this. Yet, here I am, punching in a personal security code to allow myself entrance into the house. It is quiet, and I cry of pure annoyance and anger sound from beneath my feet. Silently, I move down the stairs, and punch in my security code once more. Entering the workshop, my gaze travels over the room before landing on the hunched over figure, leaning over a hologram of an impressive suit of some kind.

"Is everything alright?" the man jumps, and Tony's amber-brown eyes turn on me, glaring, "I heard a yell and came to investigate."

"Oh yeah? Great. You investigated. Now leave."

Not bothered by the curt tone of his voice, I stand at the center of the room, crossing my arms behind my back out of habit, "I came here, in hopes of you..." I lick my lips as the foreign words dance along the tip of my tongue, "accepting my apology for the things I said last night."

"When you actually mean that, you let me know," Tony snorts as he turns his gaze back to the hologram.

"I wouldn't have bothered if I didn't mean it. I assure you, I am not apologizing for my benefit, but I feel as though I offended you," I pause, glancing around the selection of vintage cars, "Though I am not sure how I managed to do so."

"Do you talk to everyone that way?" I quirk an eyebrow, sure that we had already had this conversation, "Not dumbing down your vocabulary is one thing, but do you always have such a condescending way of speaking to people?" Condescending? When have I ever been condescending? "The way you talk to people makes you come off as though you are superior to every other person."

I try not to point out the irony of his words, reminding myself I am here to make peace, "I do not recall ever being condescending to anyone. I've never seen myself as superior to any other person. In a physical altercation, would I have superiority and better trained than my opponent? Most likely. I believe everyone carries a manner of being better than someone else. What about you? You are a genius, rich and happen to be able to fashion any type of electrical database or mechanics? Do you not feel as though all other work is obsolete compared to your own?"

He doesn't reply, and I shake my head, wondering why I ever bothered, "Look, I'm not the type of person who apologizes for their words. I am not quite sure what I said to offend you last night, but I assure you, I never meant for it to be taken as such."

"What is it like?" Tony asks, finally looking up from his work, "To be considered a hero in someone's eyes?"

"I'm not a hero, Stark," I reply, looking away from him.

"Bullshit. Rhodey told me about a few missions you were on, how you single-handedly completed, without any show of failure. You've saved lives."

"I've destroyed lives as well," I hiss, turning my glare to him, "Rhodes may glorify it however he wishes, and while I might have saved a few lives, in that same act I also destroyed lives."

"Yet, those you saved, still see you as a hero."

"That depends on what kind of hero you are looking for," I reply honestly, "Heroes are known for their courage to go out and face the impossible, with the knowledge somewhere in their mind that they might not return from it. Heroes can range from a bystander stopping a kid from running into the street, or to the type that see something that needs to be changed, and knowing that no one else will do so, step up and take charge."

"I thought, shutting down the weapon manufacturing division of my company would solve the problem. I thought, knowing I have a way of creating endless and eco-friendly energy would help better the world instead of creating more destructive weapons," I turn my gaze back to him, watching as he touches the arc reactor at the center of his chest, "Last night, I learned Obadiah issued the lock-out for me with the board of directors, and that he wasn't willing to shut down the weapon manufacturing division. I learned that my weapons were still being sold to terrorists."

I ponder over his words, watching the internal battle waging in his gaze. He is at a loss. He doesn't know what to do. He doesn't think there is a way to fix it. Looking over the holographic image of a suit, I watch as he moves and shifts things. Working components made for movement and reaction. I realize this isn't just a suit. Tony was make the final weapon. A weapon that makes all else obsolete.

"This suit you are working on? It is a weapon itself?" I ask, tilting my head as I walk around the schematics.

"The only one of its kind. Not to be mass produced. The very first one, I made while in that cave," Tony comments, looking up from his work as I carefully run a finger over the schematics for the weaponry, getting a closer look at the finer mechanics of each. "When I came back, I started working on a prototype, curious if I can get it to function properly. I think, I started this to keep my mind off of things."

A thoughtful hum leaves my lips as I tilt my head, looking over the boots, and if I am reading this the right way, they are made to give the suit flight capabilities, "It is impressive, Mr. Stark."

"Can I ask you something?" I glance up, seeing a small sign of confliction in his gaze, "You and your friends," he motions to the visible tattoo along my shoulder, "fought everyday in an attempt to do something. What was it you guys fought so hard for?"

"Walker wanted his son to grow up in a world without threat. Douglas wanted his life to mean something. Andrews fought for his pride and his honor. Michaels fought to ensure a better future than the one he grew up in. We all fought, everyday for different reasons. Reasons given so easily and yet carry much more significance than other's realize," I respond, "Walker had a wife and son to go home to. Douglas dealt with parents that told him he'd never amount to anything. Andrews always followed a straight-laced life-style and wanted to help people. Michaels grew up in near-poverty and used whatever extra money he had to rebuild low-income neighborhoods."

"What about you?" Tony asks, "What did you fight for?"

"At first? I'm not sure. I didn't have a real reason to enlist, unless you count pissing off my parents as a reason," I state with a shrug of my shoulder, "I didn't even care much for my regiment in basic, listening to the complain day-in and day-out. After the Special Ops. team was formed and I had a chance to study and understand each member it began to change. Everyday, I fought with the direction of keeping them safe. They had lives to go back to, I really didn't."

"Yet you refuse the title of hero?" I glare up at Tony, who shrugs it off, "You just said you fought to keep them safe, because they had lives to go back to. I'm sure they thought of you as their hero."

"Do you want my honest opinion of who is a hero? The one's that died to protect someone or something they deemed worth protecting. Do you want my honest opinion of who has the potential to be a hero?" Tony nods distractedly as he continues to tweak the schematics, "You."

A cynical laugh leaves his lips, "Oh yes. I can see it now. The proclaimed 'Merchant of Death' turns Hero?"

Standing upright, I glare at the pessimistic tone, "Do you enjoy the fact that terrorists have your weapons?"

"No!" Tony hisses, taking a step toward me as though he can't believe I have the nerve to say such things.

"Do you like the fact that your company is selling them under-the-table?"

"No."

"What about the people dying because of your weaponry being in the wrong hands?"

"No! Does it look like I enjoy any of those things? Like I want my weapons, weapons meant to protect innocents, destroying their lives?" Hands clamp down on my shoulders, tightening like vice-grips, "What the hell am I going to do? I am one man. One man who can't even control his fucking company! One man that can't get stop the weapons his company developes getting in the hands of a bunch of fucking terrorists!"

I know what most would be thinking now. Why am I allowing this man to grab at me? Why am I letting him shake me like a child-done-wrong? Why am I allowing a man I barely know stand so close in my personal space, when Rhodes barely takes the chance? Why haven't I broken his hold and pressed him against the table pressing against my lower spine?

It's simple really.

For one to reach potential, they must first be broken. Tony is definitely a broken man, who refuses to allow himself to believe so. Tony is not the same man people knew four months ago. Tony is a changed man, trying to keep a firm grasp on his past reality, and has not realized the major problem.

There is no going back.

In all honesty, I'm surprised it has taken this long for him to break. Many civilians would have cracked weeks ago.

Again, impressive.

As his rage simmers down and fades from his gaze, I notice the widening of his eyes as he stares down at his tightly clenched hands around my shoulders. Nothing is said as he yanks his hands back, as though my skin is burning embers of a fire, and stumbles back a few feet as though he is intoxicated. Taking the moment of silent surprise, I roll my shoulders, the faint tingle of possible bruises tickling the back of my mind, only to be ignored.

"You are an intelligent man, Tony Stark, and a passionate one at that. You have the means to change the outcome of the situation at hand, you have yet to have a cause, or reason, to do so," I state calmly, watching a faint glint of realization appear in his eyes, "Like I said. There are some heroes, willing to risk their lives in order to protect those weaker than themselves. Then there are heroes, who see a great tragedy, a great dishonor of morale, and watch as people stand by. Those heroes are the type to witness such catastrophy and take things into their own hands."

"You...think _I_ am hero material?" he questions in obvious shock.

I am not sure if it is the conflicted look on his face, the determination in his eyes, or the confusion in his voice, but something about this question causes a faint smile to tug at my lips, "You've already proved to be hero material when you shut down the weapon manufacturing division, in hopes to stop it, without getting physically involved. Seeing as though it is not in your favor to fix this in a pacifying manner, take it up a notch. Show people you mean business," I motion toward the full-projected hologram of his suit, "You have the means, and you of all people have a reason. Now, you just need the courage to make the change yourself."

Figuring that this conversation is done, I turn on heel, only to pause at his next words, "Hey, Kori," I glance over my shoulder, seeing him stand straighter, "I'm not sure, if I am the hero type."

The faint smile reappears, and it seems to register in his sight as I watch his eyes widen, "It is very rare than many heroes ever see themselves as such. Who _you_ are, and who the world sees, have always been, and will always be, two different people, and maybe, it is better that way."

"Prove them wrong, huh?" he muses, a soft grin on his face, remembering our conversation from last night.

I nod, "Of course. Just, for now, I'd keep your identy a secret. Until we can know who is behind your kidnapping, them having knowledge of this new technology could prove fatal for you."

Seeing him snap me a mocking salute, I turn back to the door and leave the way I came. He may not have verbally accepted my apology, but I think neither of us expected me to give one. Walking back to my car, I stare at the house, an odd sense of kinship surrounding me.

* * *

Dropping my keys on the small table, I inwardly groan as I hear my laptop beep with a live video chat request. Dropping into the seat, I accept it and find myself staring at the familiar face of Alex Carson.

"Blaines. I came up with that comparitive info you wanted, and I even went so far as to getting Stark's debriefing of what occured before and after the attack on the convoy," Alex states, the soft sound of his fingers tapping against the keys echoing his words, "I'm sending you the files now. I had them encrypted, much like that laptop of your's."

"What would I ever do without you, Carson?" I deadpan, but receive an answering smirk, "Don't answer that. I need you to do my one more favor. I want you to see if you can hack into the private desktop of Obadiah Stane in Stark Industries building."

"For you? Consider it done," he replies instantly.

If there is ever one thing I am thankful for, it was saving the life of a hacking mastermind. Alex Carson caused a lot of trouble a few years ago when he decided to hack into the D.O.D. database, and uncovered some encrypted files that pertained to someone liquidating funding accounts, skimming money from various departments and using the money personally. It didn't put him high in the eyes of those behind it, and a hit had been placed on him.

The rest, is history.

"Information received. Get back to me as soon as possible with that Carson."

Killing the video call, I lean back as I open up the file. Seeing all of the information, I put on a pot of coffee and break the seal to my new cigarette pack.

I am in for a long night of reading files.

And I hate reading.

* * *

"Did you know about this?"

My fingers move to cover the yawn escaping me as I reach for the mug of coffee, Rhodes standing at the entrance of my kitchen space. Turning on the stool to stare at my once-superior, I quirk an eyebrow, indicating that I have no idea what he is talking about. Listening as he talks of Tony building a weapon suit, going off, and attacking the Ten Rings encampment. Due to having no sleep, I manage a small smirk as Rhodes explains Tony outmaneuvering professional fighter pilots.

"You knew about this?"

I glare up at Rhodes, "Did I know he attacked a group of terrorists? No. Did I know about his suit? Not really any specifics. Did I know he had a huge desire to stop his tech from landing into the wrong hands? As clear as day, but everyone seemed to think he was suffering from Post-Traumatic Stress. Hey, Rhodes, can I ask you a question? If you were sitting on top of a gold mine, and had the luxury of living a comfortable life with money to spare, would you get rid of it without a fight?"

"Hell no."

Just as I thought.

"Is there anyway I can get access to the personal computer of Obadiah Stane, without looking suspicious?"

Rhodes snorts, "Not likely."

"So, I would need to be someone Stane wouldn't see as a threat?"

My words seem to finally click and Rhode's eyes widen, "You think Obadiah is behind this? Come on, the man is like a father to Tony."

"Obadiah Stane is a man that ran Stark Industries, managed to make billions of dollars and he just...hands the company over to a twenty-one-year-old that showed signs of wanting to party and was known for being irresponsible? Obadiah Stane, a man who Tony views as a father-figure, would have stood by Tony's statement in shutting down the weapons division of the company, not head the lock-out of Tony given by the board of directors. Obadiah Stane is the last person Tony spoke with before getting into the convoy, unless _you_ are the person behind his kidnapping."

"The hell I am!"

I stand up from my chair, planting the palm of my hand against the counter, "So my point is made. Obadiah Stane is a greedy man, who is most likely the person selling weapons under-the-table. The only evidence I have is circumstantial."

His eyes brighten, as though the proverbial light bulb clicks on over his head, "Pepper. Pepper is a person Obadiah respects because she deals with Tony on a regular basis and has yet to crack from the pressure. He won't think anything of her being in the office of the CEO she is working for."

"I'll make the call then."

* * *

**Thanks for those who reviewed. No song during this chapter, and it may seem as though everything is happening fast, but I'm not much for creating filler chapters. All throughout Iron Man, Tony Stark refuses to accept that he can't be the man he once was. He notices people not taking him seriously and shows obvious signs of distrust toward Obadiah after the party. He never really gave himself a way to cope with what happened. For example: If someone is continuously called the same name, or is viewed the same way, every single day, at every turn, that person soon begins to believe the other people. Tony was stuck in a state of 'I'm trying to change' and 'Who am I kidding?'. He needed to be pushed over the edge of that proverbial cliff. He needed at least one person to believe he could be different. Kori is unbiased and her answers are based on facts alone, hence why she is straight-forward about everything.**

**Let me know what you guys think.**


	5. Chapter Four: New Beginnings

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Chapter Four  
**_To New Beginnings_

* * *

"Alright Pepper," I start as I listen to her announce her arrival at the Stark Industries main building, "Once you insert the USB drive into the main computer, there is a switch application on the base. Gently pull back on it, and a red light will come on. Once you locate the Ghost Drive, begin downloading all information, and as it downloads onto the USB, it will transmit it to my computer as well."

"Are you sure I can do this?" she asks, her voice carrying a sense of hesitation.

"Focus on finding the information. You need to be quick about it, because we only have a small window of opportunity to do this," I reply, trying to soften my voice. "Once the information is completely downloaded and transferred, I will rendezvous with you outside of the building."

"Alright. I can do this."

I cut off the communication between us, and watch as Happy glances back at me in confusion, "What is it Happy?"

"You talk like Colonel Rhodes," he points out.

I flash him a small smirk as I open up my laptop and insert a USB drive similar to the one Pepper had been given, "If you must know, I am Lieutenant Colonel Korianna Blaines. When Stark was kidnapped, Rhodes called in a favor to see if I can figure out who was behind it. Rhodes and I have come to the conclusion that the only person that had anything to gain by Stark's death, would be Stane. All we need is physical evidence."

"So, that trick on reading people? Military training?"

I snort, "Try Special Operative conditioning," I state as I watch files appear on the screen in quick succession. Seeing a file containing a video feed of Stark's kidnapping, I quickly remove it from my screen and decide to call Rhodes, "Hey, Rhodes. I need you on standby, in case we need some extra back-up."

"What about Pepper?"

"Happy and I will follow Pepper the moment she leaves the building," I respond, watching as a file pertaining to Section 16 appears on my screen, "Rhodes...I have to go."

"Keep me posted, Blaines."

"Roger that, Colonel," I reply, the words leaving my lips out of habit.

Happy arrives in front of Stark Industries main office to see Pepper speed-walking, a man in a suit keeping up with her as she leads them to her car. Motioning for Happy to follow Pepper's car, I shift through the files on my computer. Obadiah Stane was not only a greedy man, but a jealous one at that. Always needing the best others have to give. Seeing a replica of the suit Tony had been working on, I fear for whatever happens next.

As Happy and I arrive on the scene, I immediately order him to stay in the car as I see Pepper racing out of the building. Quickly climbing out of the car, I sprint to her side, instantly seeing relief flash on her face.

"Kori!" she gasps, "Obadiah has gone insane."

"Pending on the fact that he was any type of sane before this mess?" I deadpan as I gently clasp her wrist, pulling her with me toward the car. Feeling a rumble from under our feet, I wave toward the car, "Happy! Get out of here!"

With not argument, Happy speeds out of the area just as a mechanical wiring sounds behind me. Turning on point, I pull Pepper's body behind mine. Pepper is only a civilian. She is one of Tony's precious people. Precious people, especially civilians, must be protected. Feeling the mental shift from civilian to the perfect soldier, I inspect every inch of the large, grey suit staring back at me. At the sight of the glowing chest piece, I squeeze Pepper's wrist carefully.

"Potts," Without looking away from the target, I feel Pepper tense at the monotonous tone in my voice, "Stark's chest piece."

"It's alright. I sent Rhodes over to Tony's. I'm sure he is fine," Pepper exclaims, stumbling slightly as the suit points a rather large gun at us.

"Hey Potts," I call out softly, "In the off-chance that this goes terribly wrong, it was a pleasure knowing you."

"Y-Yeah. You're n-not s-so bad yourself, Blaines."

Even as I stare down the large barrel, a smirk tugs at the corner of my lips. As I ready myself for the inevitable, a flash of red and gold slams into Stane's suit. Instinctively knowing Stark arrived to the proverbial party, I grab Pepper and pull her away from the line of fire.

Everything else follows in a quick succession. Tony demanded that I keep Pepper safe and so, I remained at Pepper's side. Even as we switched the power grids on the large arc reactor. Even as Pepper's hand hovered over the final button, Tony's voice yelling out from above us. Even as I slapped my hand down on top of her own and quickly pulled her from the building.

"Why did you do that!?" Pepper yelled, yanking her arm from my grip as we manage to stumble away from the blast, "Tony was still in the line of fire!"

"I had orders to keep you safe. If you hesitated any longer, Stane would still have the upper hand," I answer calmly.

The open palm of her hand greets my cheek and a tremor travels through my body, my own hands clenching to stay in control as she responds, "I don't give a damn if your superior ordered you to keep me safe. You might as well have killed Tony."

"Stark knew exactly what entailed from hitting that switch. He knew he may not survive, but was willing to put himself on the line to stop Stane from progressing any further. Do yourself a favor, Ms. Potts, and get up on the roof, locate Mr. Stark."

As she races to the stairs, my ears catch the sound of a sports car pulling to a stop behind me and a rush of footsteps, "Kori!"

"Colonel Rhodes," I intone, turning my gaze on Rhodes, "Nice timing on getting to Stark."

Seeing the comprehension in his face, I look back to the building, "If it's all the same to you, Colonel, I'm getting out of here. Ms. Potts is on the roof, hopefully locating Stark's living body."

"Where are you going?"

"Packing."

* * *

_I slide through the wasteland that's my world  
My hunger takes your life, preyed on to keep me alive, yeah  
Mercy's all that you need, mercy's empty in me_

Can't you feel the poison rising out of the morning and clear through the night  
You can feel my strength destroy you straight to the heart from the venomous bite

__I hum softly as I move through the loft apartment, bobbing my head as I mentally check off various items from my list. A beeping sound from my laptop causes me to pull away from packing as I make my way to my study desk. Seeing a video chat request, I click over the accept prompt and find myself staring into the familiar face of David Jerome.

"Iron Man, Kori? You leave for five months and you get caught up in a billionaire playboy trying to play hero?"

I snort at his words, "He wasn't _trying_ to play hero. He acted like one."

"Are you alright? Where did those bruises come from?" David asks, his gaze running over the bruise on my cheek and the bruises along my shoulders.

"You and I both know I've dealt with worse. What's going on at the house?" I ask, leaning back in the chair.

"Carmen sent some tickets to the Nutcracker. Jake said she got the lead," His words causes a small smile to form on my lips, "Ryan is an impressive tattoo artist. His work is incredible. He doesn't touch _my stereo_," I roll my eyes, smirking at the memory of David and I arguing over the music played. "Jake wa- Hey...isn't that Tony Stark?"

Glancing over my shoulder, my gaze lands on the figure of Tony Stark, standing in the open door of my loft apartment, "Davvy, I'll talk to you later."

Cutting off the video feed, I stand from my desk and usher Tony inside with a wave of my hand, "What can I help you with?"

"You're leaving? Just like that?" he questions.

Nodding curtly, I enter the kitchen, pouring myself a glass of whiskey, before making one for him, "You are no longer in the hands of terrorists and we managed to figure out who was behind everything. For what it's worth, Obadiah made a grave mistake in underestimating you."

"So...all of this was just a mission to you?" Tony asks, ignoring the offered drink, "I...I kind of though we were..."

My eyebrow quirks as he trails off, "We were what?"

"Friends?"

Friends, huh? I tilt my head, observing his tired features, before nodding, "We are, Tony. Though, you have to remember, I never actually lived here. I can't just leave my...friends without a word."

"What about us? Pepper? Happy? Rhodey? Me? What about us? You were going to leave without saying goodbye," he retorts, his irritation growing.

"I was planning on stopping by to say farewells, but I have to go back."

"Go back where? I've never heard you once refer to that place as home. Why can't you stay?" he pushes, determined as always to get his way.

I smirk, despite the annoyance of this conversation, "You act as though this will be the last time we see each other," His eyebrow shoot up in surprise, "You are close friends with Rhodes, so you will always know what I'm up to. I'm pretty sure Pepper will need a while to get over the fact that I forced her to press that button, but she'll come around. It isn't like you don't have the means, or capabilities to drop by. May I ask why you are so...upset by this?"

"Besides Pepper, Rhodey and Happy, you and Obadiah were the only people that really knew me. We both know how things ended with Obadiah and...with you leaving, it's like losing someone all over again."

I look down at the glass in my hand, "A betrayal by someone seen as family throws anyone for a loop. The last mission I was on, three years ago, had been sabotaged by one of our own," I can feel the burning stare on the top of my head and ignore it as I lift the glass to my lips, drawing a sip from it carefully, "His name was Phil," I force my gaze to meet his, watching as they shift with sympathy, "Phil was the golden boy to his family. He was the best at everything he did. He was determined to be the best at everything. We both enlisted, and both managed to be brought into the Special Ops. division. I never really understood why he did it. Why he fucked up our mission. I wondered, every day, what I did wrong. It wasn't until later that I realized, while he may have been the prodigal son, he wasn't the favored one when it came to the military. With each promotion and ascension I gained, he grew more...cross with me. The more connection I made with our fellow comrades, the more I lost with him. In the end...it didn't matter to him anymore. He no longer viewed me as a friend, had grown to hate me, and...he took away everything I had known."

"What happened to him?" Tony's voice asks, softly, cautiously. I give him a pointed look, "You killed him?"

"I remember putting a bullet in his chest before Walker threw me out of a five-story window, thus saving my life at the cost of his own," I reply, trying to ignore the memories, I raise my glass in a signature toast, "To being one of the few to walk away, with head held high, and a promise of tomorrow."

A soft smile flickers on his lips as he raises his own glass, "To living life to the fullest."

Silence follows our mutual toast, reminiscing over the night we first met. Our conversation shifts from serious topics to making monthly get-together weekends. I muse over the thought of having grown into a friendship with this arrogant man, and behind all of that, I knew that Tony is the type of person that you can't get rid of. Once a trusted friend, it remained that way until proven otherwise. I think even he realizes this odd kinship between us. Friends? Definitely. Familial? Not quite sure. Anything more? Definitely not sure. Whatever this connection was, it is one that will most likely stay strong.

Definitely impressive.

The bullet-proof 'perfect' soldier...befriended by the billionaire with a hollow point grin.

* * *

It's been a week since I returned to West Palm Beach, Florida, and I find myself pulled back into the same routine. I convinced David to stay at the house, and had been mildly surprised when he announced having formed a romantic relationship with Ryan LeCoure. It was no secret that David was openly minded when it came to romantic love interests. Even in school, he had dated various classmates, of both genders.

Hearing my phone go off, I flip it open, "Blaines speaking."

"Kori! Something is wrong!" Alex Carson's voice responds frantically.

"What's wrong? Are you okay?" I ask, pausing on the front porch of my house.

"Someone hacked my feed when we last spoke, and when I realized they were after information on you, I back traced the trail. It lead me to a computer owned and used by a Phillip Blaines."

I feel myself grow cold and my phone slips from my grasp as I kick in the door to the house, "Davvy! Ryan!" I call out as I race through the house. Bursting through the door to their collective bedroom, a disgusting bile forms in the back of my throat at the sight of the mutilated corpses embraced on the bed. Crimson decorates the bedding and the walls, and following the crimson substance around the room, I become frozen at the words written on the walls. Ruby words print against the wall, 'Tick-tock, tick-tock, the fags say farewell'.

_'Tick-tock. Five minutes and counting, Jester.'_

__The memory of Marcus 'King' Douglas's signature warning registers in my mind. Breaking into a dead sprint, my hand lands on the doorknob of the front door before the house rumbles and a sickening whiplash sends me sprawling across the front porch. The ringing in my ears doesn't cancel out the disturbing stench of burning wood and roasting flesh. Distant sirens, most likely thanks to Carson's worry, approach, piercing through the ringing in my ears and a smoke-filled sky fills my sight as darkness slowly envelopes all of my senses.

That son of a bitch is still alive.

* * *

**Oh dear? What just happened? Yes, I am afraid I am leaving this chapter as this. This is where things begin to turn. Thank you to those who reviewed and subscribed/followed my story.**

**Song: 'Sidewinder' by Avenged Sevenfold (seriously one of my favorite bands)**

**Thanks for reading, leave a review!**


	6. Chapter Five: Metallic Shock

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Chapter Five  
**_Metallic Shock_

* * *

It burns! The searing pain scorches throughout my body. Even within the expansive darkness, my body struggles in response to the pain. Every nerve along my body inflames, the torture more painful than anything I can remember. Invisible hands press down, my body fighting stronger than ever.

...awaking...sedation...stat...hook...

My senses blur as the sensations fade and my world is encompassed by darkness once more

* * *

A steady, repetitious beep pierces through the heavy fog of my mind. Slowly, I come to awareness, the ever-present darkness seeping away. My lead-filled eyelids struggle to open and I immediately snap them shut at the sight of the blinding light. Groaning, I reach up, swiping the sweat-drenched bangs from my face, but something cold and metallic drifts along my temple. Snapping my eyes open, fighting the sudden headache, I turn toward the odd sensation and find myself staring at five silver fingers. How odd? Mentally flexing my fingers, my eyes widen as the fingers curl into a solid metal fist before splaying out once again.

Ignoring the earth-shattering pain racking my body, I sit upright. At the subtle tug along the skin of my chest, I look down before using my flesh hand to tear off the EKG tabs and the intravenous needle pumping whatever drugs into my body. Ignoring the sudden screeching emergency klaxons from the machines, I yank aside the blanket along my lower body and mentally scream at the sight of metal taking place of my lower left leg. Stumbling from the bed, feeling completely thrown off balance, I burst into the en-suite bathroom.

Staring at my reflection, I struggle to fight back the scream threatening to leave my lips. My entire right arm, from my shoulder to my fingers, had been replaced with some kind of metallic artificial limb. From the bottom of my thigh, my entire knee, calf and foot had been replaced with the same type of artificial limb.

What is this? Who did this to me? The metallic fingers of my right arm curl into a fist, every part of my logic-driven brain fighting to process this new development.

'Tick-tock, tick-tock, the fags say farewell.'

Crimson letters flash through my mind and a strangled cry breaks free, metal slamming into the fragile glass of the mirror.

"Ms. Blaines!"

Hands grab at my body and without hesitation, the metallic fingers curl into each other before I snap my elbow back. Feeling hands relax their grip, I break the hold and turn on heel. I need to get out. I don't know what is going on, but I have to get out. Breaking my way through the door of the room, I stumble across the hall and slam into the adjacent wall.

I blame it on the drugs rushing through my body, because there's no way these people could have caught me so fast. No sooner had I made it down the hall, I find myself sprawled on the floor, my cheek resting against the cold linoleum floors. Struggling weakly as I am pulled to my feet, I look around only to meet a familiar pair of eyes staring at me in worry.

"R-Rhod-Rhodes?" I cough, trying to get my vocal cords to work, "W-what's going on? Where am I? What did these people do to me?"

Rhodes doesn't say anything at first, a faint sense of relief on his face, before he turns to the people holding me, "Let her go. I'll walk her back."

I curse at myself as I immediately find myself kneeling on the floor, unaccustomed to the weight of my body. Careful arms hook under my left arm and I am hoisted up and into the gently arms of Colonel James Rhodes. Slowly and carefully, the man walks in step with me as I struggle to understand what happened to me.

Back in my bed, I lean back, staring at the ceiling as Rhodes breaks the silence, "Thank God you are alright. Kori...the phone call nearly gave me a heart attack."

"What happened?" I croak out, my throat straining through the words.

"Two months ago, I received a phone call from the hospital, stating that you were currently caught in a gas explosion from your house. I'm afraid, when I arrived, they said they were trying to keep the blood from flowing out of your injuries. Apparently, the explosion sent shards of material flying and some of them severed several arteries and nerves along your shoulder and your left knee. You injuries became infected and they feared they would have to amputate. T-Tony, when he learned of that possibility, began creating artificial limbs for you," I glance down at my right arm, "It's made of the same alloy his suit is made from, so it is incredibly strong and withstanding. A lot of the components are wired directly to your nerve endings, so these limbs will work just as good, if not better, than your human limbs."

For the first time in a very long time, I am at a loss for words.

"Kori? What happened?" Rhodes asks softly, looking at me with an imploring gaze.

"Phil..." Recognition flickers in his gaze, "Phillip Blaines. He.." The picture of David and Ryan, mutilated even while embraced, "Oh God...Davvy...Ryan...they..." My hands tremble in my lap, everything feeling distorted, "W-what's wrong with me?"

"You might be going into shock. You haven't had a chance to deal with everything that happened," Rhode coos, as though I am a wild animal trapped in the corner.

Shaking my head, I lean my head back and close my eyes, wanting to escape the world. David Jerome. The light of my insignificant life. The only family I had ever really known. Gone. All because of some self-absorbed pretentious bastard with a God-complex.

I'm going to kill that bastard. I can promise that much.

* * *

Two weeks.

It's been two weeks since I woke up in the hospital bed. Two weeks of intense physical therapy. Two weeks since I made myself the promise of vengeance. Flesh and blood, or not, Phillip Blaines made himself my number one target.

Within these past two weeks, I learned that these limbs were...impressive. As if I expected anything less from one, Tony Stark. It definitely took a while to get used to the added weight, and I still have a week left for physical therapy. Everyday, I run on the treadmill for an hour, do some minor weight lifting (my exercise routine had always been built toward speed and flexibility, than strength) and standard warm-up routines.

"Kori?"

"What?" I snap toward the voice, my tone hard and my breathing only partially labored from running for so long.

Hearing the silence, I glance up to see non other than Tony Stark standing in the doorway to the physical therapy room. Turning off the treadmill, I step off and grab the towel hanging on the rails of the machine. Wiping the sweat from my face, I make my way over to him and before anything can be said, a fresh bottle of water is extended to me.

"Thanks."

"Are you...alright?" he asks, obviously not used to asking such things.

A cynical smirk forms on my lips, "I'm alive, if that's what you mean. Thanks for the new limbs, by the way."

"I tried to make the alloy as light and thin as possible. I figured with how quick of a reaction speed you have, you are built for speed and endurance," I nod as I draw a long sip from the water bottle, "I was hoping to talk to you about something. Normally, I don't go so far to do this, but...you are one of the few people I am close to and I wanted to extend an offer for you to come live at the house."

In Malibu. Away from the memories. Away from the blood. Away from the tears. Away from the heart-wrenching pain.

"I'm in," Shock appears on his face, "It isn't like I have a house to go back to here."

A wide grin appears on his face, "Great! By the way, I have some new ideas on the Iron Man suit that I wanted you to check out."

Not quite sure why he wants _me_ of all people to check them out, but I nod anyway. Following him out of the room and down the hall, I ignore the obvious stares as I pass by other patients or their visitors. Tension builds along Tony's shoulders, and I notice him glaring at every openly staring person.

Nudging him with my left elbow, his gaze pulls to mine as I run my fingers through the tangled mess that became of my hair over the past two months, "They're just staring because I'm so God damn sexy."

Obviously not expecting the words to leave my lips, a shocked laugh pierces the awkward silence between us, "Man, aren't you full of surprises."

"Says the irresponsible playboy turned hero," I retort sarcastically.

Even in my own misery, something about this man's grinning lips and gleaming gaze causes me to relax. Without even thinking about it, he nudges me in return and I stumble only slightly, not used to the excess weight.

"Shit!"

I raise a hand, stopping him from continuing, "Please. I've had enough people try to baby me. I don't need it from you."

"So...does that mean I get to do this?" he questions as he hook an arm over my shoulders, yanks my body down slightly and his knuckles rub harshly at my tangle hair.

"Hey!" I yelp playfully, shoving him off of me, "I'm not a new toy, Stark."

"So says you, Blaines," he retorts, poking a childish tongue out in return.

"Put that back in your mouth unless you plan on using it."

"Is that an offer?"

"I'm not sure you are willing to pose that question."

"Why not? Am I not good enough for you?"

"Caught on, have you?" I grin slightly at the sight of his mock-offended stare.

Hooking his arm over my shoulders once again, I am pulled close into his body and I shudder slightly. It isn't out of fear, but out of...unknown? Very few people ever go out of their way to embrace me, and Tony still barely knows me.

Time wise.

He actually knows me better than most.

"Let's get you out of here and back home. Happy misses his smoking buddy and Pepper has been driving me insane with her worried nagging about your status," Tony drones on, waving his hand in an overly-animated gesture.

Looking up at Tony, I nod, grinning softly, "Yeah. Let's get out of here."

* * *

**A bit short, but I feel like if I try to even fit more in, it would just drag slowly as it progresses. Thank you to Ali and Ravenclaw Slytherin for reviewing. Ali - Thank you, I am very pleased you enjoy Kori. I agree, she is bad ass.**

**For those of you curious, if anyone has ever seen the anime 'FullMetal Alchemist' Kori's injuries resemble Ed's. Other than having artificial limbs now, Kori still remains the same, conditioned 'perfect' soldier that is still slightly inept on a social scale. Having artificial limbs will not make her special in anyway, except for the limbs giving her a boosted strength or force behind a blow.**

**I plan to have Kori focus on tracking down Phillip Blaines (who is in fact her brother) during the events between the first and second Iron Man movies. I might bring Alex Carson into the picture physically, and if my readers are partial to Tony/Kori relationship in the future, Alex might end up with Pepper (cause I do love her character). Let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter Six: Farewell to the Past

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Chapter Six  
**_Farewell to the Past_

* * *

I knew, before I caught a plane to cross the continental U.S., that I had a few things to do before leaving. I'm not even quite sure why I am standing before the dilapidated house, the front lawn overgrown and showed a great lack of maintenance. Despite my prowess as a soldier, I can't find the urge to step through the small gated entrance. The sight of everything, so much like I remember, and yet...so different. My thoughts freeze as the porch light flickers on and the front door opens, an older gentlemen stumbling through the door.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Feeling the personality of the soldier solidify and take point in my mind, my stance straightens and I level my gaze with familiar hazel-flecked green, "I came to inform you that you will never see me again. I had hoped, you would have grown up in the past eight years, but I see that there is no real hope for it."

"I've grown up? You are the one that took away our son!"

"You son is a pathetic example of what happens to those that over-step their boundaries. He is unworthy to be referred to as a soldier of this country. He lacks loyalty, lack honor and lacks any form of humanity," my monotonous voice seems to cause him to shiver, and I feel mildly-pleased by the case, "I only came here to inform you of my permanent leave and that I hope, some day, in the future, you will see the truth life has to offer, or that you continue on your path and die a morally corrupt example of a human being."

I ignore the crude shouts as I turn on point and walk back to the all-black Ducati awaiting me at the edge of the sidewalk. Straddling the motorcycle, I gun the engine and speed down the streets, never once looking back.

* * *

"Kori!"

I smile sadly at the sight of Jake rushing from behind the bar to embrace me. Ever since I left the hospital, he had allowed me to take up the room above the pub while I wrapped up everything here. Ushered into one of the bar stools, I sit down, smoothing out the all-black military-styled jacket (Special Ops. provided), and my gloved fingers carefully clench an offered drink.

"So, tonight is your last night?" I nod as I swallow the sip in my mouth, watching closely as the older gentlemen slides an envelope across the bar table, "These came in the mail. I know, you may not want to think about it, but I would like to see you there."

Realizing these must be the tickets to Carmen's Nutcracker performance, I grace him with a soft smile, "Despite everything going on, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"So, what do you have left to do before you board your flight?"

"I have one more person to visit and then my flight takes off at two-hundred hours," I respond gently.

"I know it isn't much in that jaded mind of your's, but you will always be like a daughter to me."

Knocking back the rest of my drink, I place the glass on the table, moving my flesh hand over one of his resting on the bar, "You have no idea what that means. For my benefit, and for your own safety, will you please never speak my name again after I leave here?"

"You have my word."

Patting the man's hand, I flash him a small grin before standing up, "I only have about two hours. I will see you in December."

"Take care of yourself, soldier."

"Back at you, Old Man," I deadpan as I stalk back out of the pub.

* * *

_Here Lies:  
__David Orion Jerome__  
With a love so strong,  
a heart without wrong,  
We bask in the glow left behind,  
A warmth never again will we find,  
In your memory, do we sing,  
For your life, let it ring.  
_

__I kneel before the scripture etched in marble as memories flow through my mind and even worse, my heart.

_A boy of seven, standing defiant to many. Protecting, as always._

_A boy of nine, with a grin so wide, an arm thrown over a shoulder._

_A boy of ten, tearful and sad, body beaten and ragged._

_A boy of fourteen, flushed cheeks, boy's first kiss._

_A boy of sixteen, excited and ready to go._

_A young man of eighteen, proud and accomplished._

_A young man of eighteen, sorrowful and determined._

_A young man of twenty-one, helpful and welcoming. _

__My body shakes in the wake of the memories. Remembering the day we met, as he stood before three, much larger and much older kids, in order to protect me. The day we won a pathetic relay race. The day he learned of my physical and mental abuse. The day he learned how to love. The day he first drove. The day he graduated. The night we said good-bye. The morning of my return.

"I-I'm not sure, what I'm supposed to say. I can't even begin to express how much I miss you already. Davvy, you were my first and greatest friend, really my only friend. You never doubted me and you always stood by my side. You took care of so many, without ever asking for anything in return. You...You meant so much to me," An odd prickling sensation starts along the corners of my eyes, "You have no idea how...messed up I am. What am I going to do without you? Who is going to fight with me over the fucking stereo? Who is going to have a coffee ready for when I wake up? Who is going to argue whether or not Chinese is better than Japanese, though I still say it's Japanese," My breath catches in my throat, and I lean forward, resting my forehead against the cold grass, "Who is going to remind me what humanity means? God, Davvy...why did this have to happen? Davvy...I'm soo sorry. I am so very sorry," Something wet and salty trails down my cheeks, my fingers curling into the grass, clenching it tightly, "This is all my fault. I-I can't even begin to express how truly sorry I am. I never meant for you to get hurt. Never you." Choking on my words, I push myself upright, wiping the mess from my face, "I swear, I _will_ fix this. I promise you, David Jerome, that I will do everything I can to fix this."

Pushing myself to my feet, I sniff, a slightly hysterical laugh bubbling, as I motion toward the marble headstone, "Only you, Davvy. Only you can cause the _Perfect_ _Soldier_ to become a complete basket case. I love you, David, in ways that no words can ever express, but the connotation seems fitting for it. I sincerely hope, you of all people find peace in your eternity."

Knowing that I can't stay any longer, I kiss the pads of my fingers before softly running them over the top of the headstone, "Good-bye, Davvy."

Turning on heel, I force each step I take toward the inevitable. Climbing on my bike once more, I slowly drive away from the cemetery.

_'Good-bye, my brother, my friend, my light.'_

* * *

Finding my seat on the plane, I plop down and instantly pull out the ear-bud headphones. Popping them in place, I lay my head back against the seat and close my eyes.

_We've waited far to long to, watch it all crash and fall through,  
So when you feel like shit you gotta keep on pushing,  
If you saw the world through my eyes, then you wouldn't feel so high rise,  
Its time to take our chance you gotta sit back and hold tight._

There's forces working in our heads but we don't understand them,  
I need a map to find my way out all the time,  
Theres curses lurking in our heads but we don't want to find them,  
We need to come back down and face what we've become.

The more I think the more I wish I could push stop then hit rewind,  
What I would give to have a day back then when no one really cares,  
I remember when we all used to kick back take days off school,  
So many times I've smiled so many times I cried but never did we try,  
Never did we try, because.

It's haunting me, I'm so alone,  
I'm just trying to find my way back home,  
I'm so alone, alone.

Wiping away the lone tear from my cheek, I inwardly damn the sick, twisted irony life seems to deal me.

* * *

**A bit of a sad one, but this is the turning point in which Kori makes a promise that she intends to keep, and no one, not even Tony, will be able to stop her. I wanted to give you guys an insight on the bond David and Kori had. This was particularly difficult for me to write, as it is based off of a very dear friend of mine that died a few years ago. He truly was the one that helped me open up more socially, and it was difficult trying to continue on as though he had never died.**

**Thanks again for reading. I may, or may not, be updating tomorrow, so please leave a review. Should I bring Alex Carson in physically, maybe start up a romance between Alex and Pepper...Alex's personality differs from Tony's, but he is just as forward and charming as Tony, without coming off as arrogant (unless someone is challenging him to hacking).**

**Song: 'Curses' by Bullet For My Valentine**


	8. Chapter Seven: The Perfect Soldier

**Of Bullet Proof and Hollow Points**

**Summary:**

Two years I had spent with my fellow comrades. Two full years of adapting to life in desert terrain. Two years of dodging bullets, missiles and guerilla tactics. Two years of becoming a strong unit, a family.

All of that, gone. In a flash-bang.

It's been three years since that fateful day, and being the only surviving member of an entire Special Ops. Task Force apparently makes me quite the focal point in various agencies.

Now, if only this...SHIELD agency would stop pestering me

Author's Note:

I just need a small break from 'Sparky' and I wanted to get rid of some random plot bunnies. This is more of an Iron Man fic, but it will soon lead into Avengers. This is a bit more serious than my other story, and in the beginning comes off as a bit depressing. In the beginning, my OC, Kori, will come off as a bit stand-off-ish and quite...uh...cynical in nature, but has a hard time opening up to people. This story is a bit more personal to me, and it isn't about losing people to the hardship of war, but also when I was growing up, I always had a difficult time opening up on an emotional level.

These chapters will probably be longer than the chapters of 'Sparky', but do take in the knowledge that Kori is _very_ observant. She's gone through specialized training that causes her to notice the smallest details, or the slightest difference. Kori is not special by any means, except she's an impressive marksmen, trained by experts and has been conditioned to be a 'perfect' soldier, not to be confused with Captain America, who is a super soldier, and had really no deep conditioning in the way Kori has.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avengers, Iron Man, and the Title of this story is inspired by My Chemical Romance's 'Bulletproof Heart'. Note that the title also refers to Kori's 'bullet proof' persona and Tony Starks can be referenced as the 'hollow point'. His personality would best help Kori develop on a social level, and she would be able to tone down his 'arrogance' by often calling him out on it.

One more note:

I have not decided if Kori and Tony's friendship in this story will develop into more, so we will see as the story progresses and you readers/reviewers are welcome to point me in which direction to go.

* * *

**Chapter Seven  
**_Return of the Perfect Soldier_

* * *

We never spoke of what happened that day. Tony never asked about it, and I never felt the need to speak of it. I moved into one of the guest rooms of his cliff-side mansion. It isn't that I am unable to purchase my own place, but I took up Tony's offer. No paper trail left to follow. I had contacted Alex and instructed him to go MIA for a while, and I haven't heard of anything since.

Life in the Stark House had not been what I was expecting. Yes, life in the house has its repetitious moments. My insomnia has grown worse since the incident, so I often occupy the in-home exercise room. When I'm not running, I am testing the strength, power and limitations of my artificial limbs. When I am not in the exercise room, I keep myself busy by locating any problematic situations that are in need of 'Iron Man', and transferring the information to Tony. When I am not performing logistics for Iron Man, I am racing around with Happy, or being forced to go shopping with Pepper.

Though, there are moments where the repetition breaks. Most of the time, when Tony arrives back at the mansion with a new injury in need of quick medical treatment. The moments when Tony manages to blow something up, or causes the power in the house to short out for a moment. When Tony and I both find ourselves in need of a break from our individual work (i.e. Me: searching for Phil), he drags me into the living room for a movie night.

A common factor between Tony and I, is our need to escape the noise and hustle of the tourist trap known as Malibu, California. After particularly difficult missions for Tony, he meets me at the cliff-face I found many months ago. Rarely do we speak. Most of the time, we enjoy the silence and comfort of each other's presence. Sometimes, when Tony is unable to save someone, he arrives at the house, drags me from whatever I am doing and flies us to some remote area.

Absolutely drives Pepper nuts.

Today, I find myself sitting on the edge of the Grand Canyon, the sun slowly sinking beneath the Western Horizon. He has yet to say anything, as he sits down next to me, the distant sunlight gleaming off of the red-gold suit. I never truly expect him to say much of anything during these moments. I pull my gaze away from my silent companion, my thoughts turning inward.

I had thought, it would have been difficult to find some sense of balance between my personalities. I remember the days of long ago, after I had completed the conditioning for the Perfect Soldier. I had difficulties switching off the Perfect Soldier-mode, as my comrades called it. Our days when we managed to have a short reprieve, the others had to remind me when I slipped back into the Perfect Soldier-mode. After the loss of my team, David had been my only remaining link to humanity.

Or at least, he _had_ been.

"So," Tony draws out the word, breaking the silence between us, "I've been thinking about making up a skin graph for those limbs of your's."

Glancing down at the gleaming silver of my right arm, I ponder of the idea before shrugging, "It doesn't matter any. Maybe for the times I am in public. It isn't a necessary factor."

"You don't care about looking like something put together by Dr. Frankenstein?" Tony jests playfully, the teasing grin audible in his voice.

I snort, "Not particularly," I pause, wiggling the metallic digits of my right hand, "I kind of like it actually. It...reminds me of what I really lost in the incident."

"A gas explosion, huh?" Tony questions, obviously disbelieving the idea.

"Technically? Yes," I quip, my fingers curling into a fist, "I kind of wish I could have a sparring partner that won't receive any disastrous injuries from my new limbs."

"I could always build you a sparring robot."

I snort, "If this is really made out of the same alloy you make that suit out of, I doubt they'd survive long."

"Probably not. Rhodey has told me about your fighting. He said you have a habit of being precise, without ever using more energy or effort than needed to land a blow. He said if you ever thought of take up a gun, you'd be a damn good marksmen," I grunt a small chuckle at the thought of using a gun. "What's so amusing?"

"I've never been a fan of using guns. I will if I need to, but if I am close enough in range, I prefer to use bladed weapons."

"Sounds a bit dangerous."

I shrug at his response, "Due to my conditioning, it didn't matter what damage my body received, the mission was top priority. I don't know how many times I've ran through an entire encampment with a bullet lodged in my body somewhere."

"They make you go through _that_?"

I smirk, and I'll admit that it carried a bit arrogance, "I am _the_ Perfect Soldier. Orders are given, missions are accepted and they are completed to a 't'. Most of the mission guidelines were standard; Get in, Get out, leave no evidence, and leave behind no witnesses," The smirk falls from my lips, "I...I carry a lot of blood on these hands."

"You were following orders," Tony intones carefully.

I shake my head, "It didn't matter," I continue as though he had never spoken, "It didn't matter if the witnesses were presumed targets, or innocent bystanders. We were not allowed to leave a single trace, nor leave anyone able to identify us, behind. Having to be that person, be the Perfect Soldier, for so long, I...lost sight on what life meant. I didn't understand humanity, or the strife civilians believe themselves to carry in life. Hell, I still don't understand the majority of their issues."

"Haven't you ever tried...not being the Perfect Soldier?" Tony asks, the title leaving his lips as though it leaves a bad taste.

"If it were that easy. That's like telling you not to be Iron Man anymore," The snort in reply causes me to nod, "See where I am coming from? Once we become something we've fought so hard to be, to be what is needed within a life of chaos, it is difficult to just...walk away."

"Then...embrace it," My gaze snaps up, and I am slightly confused by his words, "If you can't fight being what you've been trained to be, then embrace it."

Silence falls over us again as I glance back at the darkening horizon. Embrace it? Rolling the thought through my mind, I realize Tony's words make sense. I have been allowing my emotions over David's death to run my instincts. Instead of doing what I must do in order to locate Phil, I have been hesitant. In fear of him learning of my connection to Tony, Pepper, Rhodes and Happy, I let that fear grip so tightly, that I lost sight on what needs to be done.

"Thanks, Tony."

* * *

"Alright, Blaines. Are you ready?" the metallic voice of the Iron Man suit questions in a teasing manner.

"Bring it on, Stark!"

The red-gold arms carrying me through the air release me the moment the words leave my lips. Plunging through the air, thousands of feet above the ground, I close my eyes as I feel the wind rush pass me, and for the few moments, I feel more alive than I have for days. Flipping and twisting, I splay my arms out as I allow my body to move with its own momentum. Even with my eyes closed, I think nothing of the approaching ground, only of the absolute freedom.

The moment, that seems to go on forever and yet end so quickly, is broken as Iron Man's hand grabs my left leg. Opening my eyes, I let out a surprised chuckle at the sight of the ground only feet from my face. Feeling him release me, I flip myself around and land solidly on my feet as I hear him touch down behind me. Smirking, I watch as his face plate slides open and he quirks an eyebrow.

"Do you carry any fear at all?"

"Sure. Death is one thing I believe is pointless on fearing," I reply, growing curious at the slight shift in his gaze, "Death is inevitable. It is the only constant in the cycle of life. There is no avoiding it. Why fear it? Why allow it to inhibit you from living every moment?"

"Yet you question your view of humanity with words like that?" he quips, the odd glint leaving as though it had never been there.

"If there is one thing I understand more than anyone else, it is the facts between life and death. Life, is a disease. Death is the only reprieve one has of it," I state.

"A sexually transmitted disease at that," Tony remarks, and my right fist clashes against the metal of his chest piece, just off to the side of his reactor, "What? It is? Does that mean 'Death' can be symbolism for an orgasm?"

"Tony Stark, the epitome of a bastard, with or without the special suit," I snark, getting a grin in return as we both head inside the house.

"If I'm a bastard, what does that make you?"

"The epitome of what parents fear their children will turn into," I retort, causing him to burst into a fit of laughter, "What? There's no denying it."

"How about a drink?" Tony offers as he makes his way to the platform, Jarvis instantly coming to life to remove his Iron Man suit.

"Sure," I agree, nodding slightly, "Have you thought about a portable version of your suit? Something you can jump into when on the go and an emergency catches you unaware?"

Tony's eyebrows shoot up, and I shrug, "What? It's a logical assumption. As Iron Man, the newest hero of today, you will start to attract the wrong kind of attention."

"To be honest, I never thought of that," he says surprised as he steps down from the platform.

I slip my hands into my back pockets as I walk beside him up the stairs, "It would definitely work in your favor, since you really don't have a secret identity."

The wolfish grin on his face is his automatic response, a nonchalant shrug as he tosses an arm over my shoulder, "Aw, come on. Did you see the look on everyone's face? The government is still asking for the specs of the suit."

I may be a military-bred killing machine, but even I know our government can be as corrupt as any other country's, "Yeah, like they need any additional weapons to add to their ever-growing collection. One mole and the world plunges into chaos."

"My thoughts exactly."

Drinks are poured and we sit in a comfortable silence. The silence is broken as Pepper makes her way into the house, beautiful and professional as always as she approaches us. She begins giving Tony a run-down of his upcoming week and at the mention of a gala of some kind causes me to drain the remainder of my drink. Standing to my feet, I only manage to turn on heel before Pepper calls out to me.

"No. My answer is still no."

"Oh come on, Kori!" Pepper pleads.

"I am not allowing you to drag me to another one of those damn parties," I shout over my shoulder as I wander off, leaving behind a laughing billionaire and his slightly affronted assistant.

Slipping into my room, I pull my cell phone from my back pocket.

"This is Xander Chase, owner and operator of Fantasy Chase, where our motto is to service each and every desire you may have."

I blink, slightly thrown off thought pattern, before I shake my head clear of the sudden loss for thought, "Hey, it's Sabelin."

"Oh! Hey Gorgeous. What can I do ya' for?"

"I need one of my care packages sent to 8461 Stark Dr. in Malibu, California," I reply as I lay back on my bed.

"Alright. One order of a super deluxe Toy kit, outfitted with the latest, highly enticing of gadgets," Xander rattles off, "Anything else you might want to order?"

"Yes. I'm going to need my uniform."

"Oh? I think I know of the perfect outfit for your desires. Is that everything, darling?"

"Yes. Send it express. I want it here no later than two days," my tone growing flat and monotonous.

"Of course, Miss. Thanks for choosing Fantasy Chase. Have a nice day."

Hanging up the phone, I place it on the bed side table before closing my eyes. Inhaling deeply, I slowly fall into a deep meditation, hoping to get a grip and figure out a plan of action.

* * *

_"Sir, Ms. Blaines, I would like to notify the presence of a delivery man approaching the house."_

Looking up from the new specs of Tony's Mark III, I catch sight of Jarvis showing a live-clip of a man, wheeling a large box up to the front door. Tony thanks Jarvis as he stands from his work table and I follow as we greet the delivery man at the front of the house.

"I have a delivery for a Ms. Anna Sabelin."

My eyebrows knit together as I examine the man. He is taller than Tony, by at least half of a foot, and his entire body carried lean, taunt muscles. Copper-blonde hair was covered with a uniformed hat, and a pair of black-framed reading glasses adorned the bridge of his nose. Light blue-grey eyes look up from the metal file casing (the odd contraption most delivery guys carry around for customers to sign), and I watch as those eyes spark with recognition and surprise as they look over the expanse of my right arm.

Busted.

Taking the signature pad from the man, my flesh hand scribbles down my scratchy signature as I hear an odd sound come from Tony, "What in God's name did you order from...Fantasy Chase?"

"Need-to-know basis, Stark," I retort, never breaking away from staring at the young, lanky man before us, "What I want to know is, why are _you_ delivering?"

I ignore the tension forming in Tony's body as I watch a sad grin stretch across the copper-haired man's face, "In all honesty, I have been worried about you. I wanted to check up on you."

"You know this guy?"

I motion toward the man for Tony's sakes, "This is Alex Carson, currently going by the pseudo-name Xander Chase. Carson, this is Tony Stark."

"Who is he exactly?" Tony questions, obviously weary of any unknown faces.

"Carson is a hacker consultant used for various government agencies. He can probably find any information, anywhere in the world. He helped me narrow down my list of suspects to Stane during the whole ordeal. He isn't militant, he isn't government, he is more...criminal than anything else," Tony's eyes widen, "He used to hack into DOD database or Homeland Security, just because he could. When he uncovered a liquidation scandal, he ended up with a hit put on him. When my Special Ops. informant came across the information, I tailed him for days before someone tried to make an attempt on his life. I saved his life and he's been...working for me ever since."

"Right..." Carson trails off, glancing around, "As lovely as it is to meet you, Mr. Stark, I do need to disappear. Maybe we can meet up for drinks sometime. I'll stick around the area just in case."

I nod curtly, causing Carson to snap a mocking salute to me before stalking back to the 'delivery truck'. As the vehicle pulls away, I turn and pick up the box, bringing it inside.

"Need any help?" Tony offers.

"Thanks, Tony, but I need to go through this stuff alone."

"Dinner tonight?"

"Alright."

Walking back to my room, I shut the door with a soft click and set the box on top of my bed. Pulling it open, I feel a familiar, deadly smirk form on my lips at the sight of my new _toys_. Locating my old uniform, I pull it from the box. The entire outfit is a single, tight-fitted body suit, the top sleeveless with straps that tied around the back of my neck. The fabric is made of a nearly impenetrable woven collection of fibers, with pocket areas with built-in Kevlar over vital points in the body. Built-in gun holsters were set along the lower back and the outside of the thighs. Along with the suit, a pair of black gauntlets were made to cover the entire forearm and hand of each arm. Along the underside of my lower arm, both gauntlets carry a secret, hidden blade that disengages and slides out of its hidden pocket with a flick of a small mechanism against the center of the palm. The boots were designed to match the same mechanics as my gauntlets. Along the body suit, various hidden pockets and slips were able to carry an array of small throwing daggers, or knives.

Reaching into the box, I carefully pull out a katana-styled sword, the hilt decorated with silver wrapping to give a person a decent grip, and I grin widely at the sight of the solid black blade as I slide the katana from its sheath. Immaculate. Untarnished. Not a single chip, scratch or sign of use along the blade. This blade has always been my pride and joy. In the cold dark night, racing through various compounds, this blade is damn near impossible to see, unless it is something you are looking for. Sliding the blade back into the sheath, I muse inwardly.

It seems as though the Perfect Soldier is out of retirement.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! I am growing more and more pleased with the story as it progresses.**

**Ali: I am glad you enjoyed the amputee twist. I enjoy reading your reviews. They make me laugh.**

**Thanks to the following followers of the story:**

**animefreakv23 the beast**

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**All of you guys are awesome!**

**Now, I'm kind of contemplating on giving you guys a treat and giving one chapter in someone else's point of view. Not sure if I want to pick between Pepper, Tony, Rhodes or Happy. All because you guys are awesome readers and I want to give you guys a choice, so review, let me know if you want me to, or should I just keep it in Kori's point of view.**

**Review! Thanks again!**


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